He opened the bedroom door and she could glance in.
Mother Clement was dozing in a large armchair, while her patient seemed to be asleep: she was not much changed but her complexion was like ivory in pallor.
"Mother, my dear mother," exclaimed Catherine, rushing into the room.
The dying one opened her eyes and tried to turn her head, as a gleam of intelligence sparkled in her look; but, babbling, her movement was abortive, and her arm sank inert on the head of the girl, kneeling by her side.
From the lethargy of the father and the mother had shot two opposite feelings: hate from the former, love from the latter.
The girl's arrival caused excitement on the farm, where Billet was expected, not his daughter. She related the accident to the farmer, and how he was as near death's door as his wife at home, only he was moving from it on the right side.
She went into her own room, where there were many tears evoked by the memories where she had passed in the bright dreams of childhood, and the girl's burning passions, and returned with the widow's broken heart.
At once she resumed the sway over that house in disorder which her father had delegated to her to the detriment of her mother.
Father Clovis, thanked and rewarded, retook the road to his "earth," as his hut was called.