Ralph protested that he was not in the least hungry, and that he had had some sandwiches at Derby Station, which was literally true, although on his way from the terminus he had thought pleasantly of the snug supper with his father, which he fully expected was in store for him. His reception had effectually satisfied his youthful appetite.
“By the way, Jones said something about letters in the library; just get them, will you? Perhaps yours may be among them. I have had an extra-busy day—was interrupted at breakfast—hadn’t time to open my letters,” said Hugh, uneasily.
Ralph hastened to execute his father’s command, and returned with a bundle of letters in his hand.
“Here is yours—unopened—as you see,” said Dr. Paull, showing Ralph his own letter, which he had neglected with the rest of his morning’s correspondence. “It was a fortunate thing I had not gone to bed.”
Ralph looked astonished. His father, the acmé of punctiliousness in business, speaking so carelessly of a whole batch of unopened letters! What could it mean?
“I have something to show you, father,” he said, gently. The poor boy thought that the fortnight’s loneliness had wrought this change in his beloved parent, whom he understood about as much as a beetle understands an eagle. And he fetched in two small packing-cases with lightly-fastened lids.
“There,” he said, “are they not beautiful? I made the ivy one myself.”
He opened the cases and removed some wadding. Dr. Paull stared with some perplexity at two wreaths—one of ivy, the other of white lilies. Then he bit his lip—he remembered! For the first time since Lilia’s death, he had not noted the approach of the anniversary of that terrible day when his son’s baby-hand had held him back from the one unforgivable sin—self-murder. On that day it had been his custom to take Lilia’s son to her grave, and talk to him of his mother: of what was best in her, that the memory of a mother should be even more to the boy than the influence of that mother, had she lived.
This time—he had forgotten!
“They are beautiful, Ralph,” he said, placing his hand affectionately on his boy’s shoulder. “Let us put them in a cool place, and go to bed. We must be up early to-morrow.”