"Poor old mummy!" he ejaculated. And then, turning serious eyes upon my face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that."
"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know anything," I responded, smiling.
"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about her."
Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together.
"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair—not letting him guess the pang I felt.
"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us—that you have given us leave—that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only knew her——"
I stopped him, for he was getting agitated.
"If your heart is set on it, darling—by and by, I mean, when you are quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter—don't imagine I shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head—think of nothing whatever—except getting well. And when you are quite well—then we'll see."
"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother."
"So you shall, dear—as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask the doctor about it."