He thought he heard a voice, a husky whisper, say, "_Go to her_"; and, a
little surprised by this, he stepped to the door of the bedroom and
peered in. There, sitting in an arm-chair, half hid in the gloaming, sat
his mother with closed eyes and a gray-white face.
"Mother, are you sick?" he cried out, starting toward her.
Again the whisper in the air close to his ear commanded him: "_Stay
where you are. Do not touch her._"
"Mother, don't you know me? It is Victor."
The whisper answered: "_Your mother is resting. We are treating her. Be
patient; she will awaken soon._"
For a moment Victor's heart failed him, so impressive was this whisper,
issuing apparently from the empty air. Then a flood of rage swept over
him. This Voice was one of the tricks charged against her by the paper.
"Mother, stop that! I won't have it. Do you hear me? Stop it, I say!"
The sleeper stirred and her eyes opened, but no sign of recognition was
in them. Slowly her stiffened hands withdrew from the arms of her chair
and clasped themselves in her lap. Her cheeks, puffed and pallid, were
rigid and her eyes, turned upward and inward, gleamed coldly. The lids
were half-closed. She had a horribly unfamiliar, tortured look, and he
started toward her, calling upon her in a voice of anxiety. "Mother,
what is the matter? Don't you hear me?"
At last she opened her eyes and a thrill of relief ran through him as he
caught a gleam of recognition there. She lifted her hands feebly,
whispering, "My boy, my precious boy!"
Kneeling by her side, he waited for her consciousness to come back. Her
hands, so cold and nerveless, grew warmer, her lips smiled wearily, yet
with divine maternal tenderness, and at last she spoke. "My big,
splendid boy! I knew you would not desert me. I knew it; I knew it. I
prayed for you."
"I came by the very first train," he answered, "and I am here to defend
you."
A loud knocking at the door startled her and she clasped his hand
tightly as she whispered: "That is another of my enemies. All day they
have been coming. Send them away."
He put her hands down and rose tensely. "I'll smash their faces," he
hotly declared.
"Don't be rash, Victor, please."
He strode to the door and opened it. A dark, handsome young woman and a
grinning youth stood without. They were both a little dashed by Victor's
appearance as he queried, with scowling brow, "What do you want?"