Andrea closed her eyes and leaned back, so sharp was the pang shooting through her.
“If I had not set out alone in the night, I should not have been perplexed about the road: and then I should not have been recognized by Lord Isidore Charny, who offered his help and conducted me to the Tuileries——“
Her eyes re-opened, her heart expanded and her glance thanked heaven: for it increased the miracle that Sebastian should be led to her by her husband’s brother.
“I should not have seen you passing through the palace and not following you might never have called you ‘Mother!’ the word so sweet and tender to utter.”
Recalled to her bliss, she hugged him again and said:
“Yes, you are right, my boy; it is most sweet: but there is perchance another one more sweet and tender; ‘My son!’ which I say to you as I press you to my heart. But in short,” she suddenly said, “it is impossible that all should remain mysterious around us. You have explained how you come here, but not how you recognized me and ran after me, calling me your mother.”
“How can I tell? I do not myself know,” replied Sebastian, looking at her with love unspeakable. “You speak of mysteries? all is mysterious about you and me. List to me, and I will tell you what seems a prodigy.”
Andrea bent nearer.
“It is ten years since I knew you. You do not understand. I have dreams which my father calls hallucinations.”
At the reminder of Gilbert, passing like a steel point from the boyish lips, Andrea started.