I
It was like the home-coming of a national hero. The college paper
and the little local daily had announced that Miss Eileen Trench had
played at a private audience with the King of Belgium--the paragraph
inspired by her mother, when one of the letters from Brussels brought
the humorous announcement that His Majesty had stopped his motor car in
front of her window while she was practicing a brilliant Chopin number.
Judith thought the crowd was at the station as a tribute to Lary’s
recent triumphs. And Lary thought, bitterly, that his New York success
had won him the plaudits of his native town. Theodora told them both
the truth, on the way home. She was afraid too much adulation would
turn Eileen’s head.
At first they did not miss David in the throng. A year ago he and
Theodora had stood alone on the little station platform. Judith knew
why he was not there now. Eileen knew, too, and her eyes darkened with
suffering. He was at the gate as they approached. Lary caught his
breath sharply, as he took in the shrunken figure and the mournful
eyes. Eileen leaped from the cab and ran to greet him.
“Papa, darling!”
He looked at her as one awakening from deep sleep. Then all at once
the smile broke ... it spread, like ripples on the surface of a placid
pool. Every emotion of his heart was recorded on that transparent face.
The blue eyes beamed with incredible joy, as he held out his arms.
“It’s my little girl. I thought I had lost you.”
“No, daddy dear, it’s only that I have found myself.”
Lavinia hurried into the house. She could not bear such spectacles in
public. What would the neighbours think?