“Mother is ill and I want to stay with her,” Lilian returned coldly, provoked at the selfishness. She read awhile, then took up some embroidery. Miss Trenham came in with the gift of a beautiful volume of poems. Claire sent a little reminder in a most exquisite book mark. She was quite delighted in the change to another home, where there were two girls. “Could Edith do anything for them?”
“They are all so good here, and mother doesn’t need much, she seems to sleep a good deal.”
The sick girl at the Clairvoyant’s was improving. Not even a case of measles had been reported in town.
So the winter day drew to a close. Lilian watched the little procession starting out under the convoy of Miss Graniss. Yes, she had run out that way at Laconia—how long ago it seemed. Oh, she ought to have sent a few gifts to old girl friends. She had really no heart for gladness.
Lilian sat over by the gas burner reading that most beautiful Christmas part of “In Memoriam.” She almost heard the “happy bells ring across the snow,” so rapt was she in the poets charm. Then something stirred. Her mother was trying to raise herself.
“Oh mother—”
“Put the pillows around me, so, I want to sit up. I want to talk. I have been living it over. And I am surely going to that other country. I shall have my own two babies in my arms, and their father will come to meet me. I want to tell you how it was. It has come back so distinctly, much plainer than when I wrote it.”
Miss Arran had started to come in but paused at the door. Lilian’s back was towards her. Mrs. Dane going through the hall paused as Miss Arran held up her finger.
“Oh, mother, not tonight.”
“Yes, now. I feel so strong. After husband died my brother sent for me and wanted me to take up some land adjoining his. Mr. Holland, who was holding the life insurance—all I had, was not willing until I had seen what the place was like and he thought that kind of life very hard on women, but my brother was the only relative I had, though I had not seen him for years. After I had started I was frightened about the journey and the strange people. There was one woman with a baby, a bright, beautiful child with rosy cheeks and brilliant eyes. I supposed her the mother, for I saw her nurse the infant, and there was with them such a beautiful woman. She came to me in the night, and when I looked at her the last time she was dead,” and she sighed.