“Not yet—oh! not yet,” cried the old lady, with tears in her eyes, drawing timidly toward the prostrate woman. “Let me kiss her while she looks so natural. Husband, come!”
She fell upon her knees, holding up her arms for the old gentleman, who knelt beside her; and the blended tears fell warm and fast on the poor maniac. First one and then the other bent forward, pressing timid kisses upon that pale face, thus assuring themselves that it still retained a glow of life.
Meantime Catharine drew her visitor aside. “Take the boy away,” she said, hurriedly, “she will not miss him, perhaps, if he is out of sight. But let me come and see him sometimes; I will not trouble you often.”
“I would leave him with you, if it would do her good, that is for an hour or two,” said the lady, who was trembling still with the joy of having found her darling.
Catharine looked at the sleeping boy, with a keen desire to have him with her a few hours longer; but a habit of self-control, which suffering had matured, enabled her at once to suppress the wish.
“No,” she answered, “it would do no good, unless she had him always with her. It is a wild fancy that may not return while he is out of sight; besides, you look weary. Up all night, and so anxious.”
“I will go then, if you think it best,” answered the widow, with an effort; and she moved away with the child.
“One moment!” pleaded Catharine, for her heart sunk as she saw the boy carried off. “If you will sit down in the breakfast-room a moment, while I take care of poor Elsie, perhaps you will permit me to help you carry him home. I should be so happy, and you are worn out!”
“He is heavy,” answered the widow, “but that is nothing. I am so glad to get him in my arms again. I could carry him over the whole world without feeling the weight.”
“I should like to carry him,” said Catharine, gently, “if you were willing.”