I don't know why, but my silence and almost apathy began to irritate Mr
Gray very much. I felt that he was looking at me impatiently. I even
heard him sigh. Suddenly he sprang to his feet.
"What answer am I to take to Tom Valentine?" he asked.
Then I raised my head.
"Tell him to come to see me," I said.
"Good gracious! Do you mean it?"
"I do mean it."
"When is he to come?"
"To-night, if he likes--the sooner the better."
I rushed away, I flew up the wide stairs. My one desire was to take
refuge in my mother's room. A wide bay-window faced the sofa where she
lay. The sun had set more than half an hour ago, but faint rose tints
still lingered in the sky, and a full moon was showing her cold but
brilliant face. The weather was turning quite genial and spring-like.
Under ordinary circumstances I should not have cared to sit so near the
fire. Now I huddled up to it, glad of its warmth, for I was shivering
slightly, with the queerest mixture of suppressed excitement, despair,
and yet gladness. Now and then I glanced at my mother. From where she
lay I could only see a dim outline of her figure. She was lying very
still; her hands were peacefully folded by her side; her breathing came
gently; there was repose about her attitude.
Her voice, very sweet and clear, soon broke the silence.
"Rose, come here, darling."
I sprang up, ran to her, and knelt by her side. My mother often called
me in this way, not because she had anything special to say, but because
she liked to feel my firm young hand clasping hers.
She laid her fingers in mine now, and turned her soft brown eyes to
catch the outline of my face.
"Mother!" I exclaimed with sudden passion, "in all the wide world you
are to me the very sweetest, the dearest, the best." Tears trembled in
my voice, and almost choked me. I hated myself for giving way. My
mother kept on looking at me. She softly patted the hand which held one
of hers. It was not in her to express her feelings except by that
gentlest of touches.
"And if you die, I shall die," I continued. "Mother, you must get
better--you must live, you must!"
"It is as God wills, my darling."
"That is just it, mother. He would not have made us rich if He did not
will that you are to live. Poverty and care were killing you. Now they
have folded their wings, and gone away. You will always be rich in the
future; you will always have the most nourishing food, the softest care,
the tenderest love. Don't you think you can nestle down into the love
and the care, mother? Don't you think you can try?"
"I do try, Rose. But poverty--poverty and trouble have left their mark.
That mark has sunk deep, very deep. Still, I will try to live for your
sake--indeed, for all your sakes. Don't cry, my dear daughter."
I wiped my tears softly away. After a time, I said in a voice which I
tried hard not to be tremulous:
"Are you strong enough, mother, for me to say something?"
"Yes, my darling, certainly."
"Are you not a little surprised, mother, at this sudden change? Are you
not a little curious to know by what means poverty has folded her wings
and flown away from us?" My mother was silent for nearly a full moment,
then she said slowly:
"I know you have a story to tell me whenever I am ready to hear it. But
I am too weak to listen to it to-night. Weakness keeps us from being
very curious, Rose. I don't think, even in health, I was ever
inordinately curious about anything. I was always able to take things
on trust from those I loved. I can take riches on trust for the
present, Rose."
"You are just the sweetest mother in the world," I said, kissing her on
her forehead.
Just then the peal of the front-door bell penetrated into my mother's
room. I started back at the sound.
"What is the matter, dear?" she asked. "Did that bell startle you?"
"It did, mother, because--because I know who has come."
"Some friend of yours, darling?"
"Yes, a--a friend of mine. I must go down-stairs to see him. Mother,
give me your two hands for a moment."
She gave them without a word. I bent low, and placed my mother's hands
on my head.
"Mother, say these words over me, `God bless you, Rosamund; your
mother's God bless you!'"
"Your mother's God abundantly bless you, my precious daughter?" said my
mother.