It was late in the night. My mother and I sat alone in her dim-lit room.
We were waiting--both waiting. And I was waiting for the lights of the
returning punts.
"Davy!" my mother called. "You are still there?"
"Ay, mother," I answered. "I'm still sittin' by the window, lookin'
out."
"I am glad, dear," she sighed, "that you are here--with me--to-night."
She craved love, my love; and my heart responded, as the knowing hearts
of children will.
"Ah, mother," I said, "'tis lovely t' be sittin' here--all alone with
you!"
"Don't, Davy!" she cried, catching her breath. "I'm not able to bear the
joy of it. My heart----"
"'Tis so," I persisted, "'cause I loves you so!"
"But, oh, I'm glad, Davy!" she whispered. "I'm glad you love your
mother. And I'm glad," she added, softly, "that you've told me
so--to-night."
By and by I grew drowsy. My eyes would not stay open. And I fell asleep
with my head on the window-sill. I do not know how long I slept.
"Davy!" my mother called.
"Ay?" I answered, waking. "Sure, I been asleep!"
"But you're not wanting to go to bed?" she asked, anxiously. "You'll not
leave your mother all alone, will you?"
"No, no, mama!"
"No," she said. "Do not leave your mother, now."
Again I fell asleep. It may be that I wasted a long, long time in sleep.
"Davy!" she called.
I answered. And, "I cannot stay awake," I said. "Sure, 'tis quite past
me t' do it, for I'm so wonderful sleepy."
"Come closer," she said. "Tired lad!" she went on, when she had my hand
in hers. "Sleepy head! Lie down beside me, dear, and go to sleep. I'm
not afraid--not afraid, at all--to be left alone. Oh, you're so tired,
little lad! Lie down and sleep. For your mother is very brave--to-night.
And tell your father, Davy--when he comes and wakes you--and tell your
sister, too--that your mother was happy, oh, very happy and brave,
when...."
"When you fell asleep?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered, in a voice so low I could but hear it. "That I was
happy when--I fell asleep."