She could scarcely speak for joy. At last she broke forth with words of greeting:
“Oh, my boy, my boy, you are home once more; you have come home to me, and you shall never go away again.”
“I am glad to be with you, dear mother; as glad as a little child, who needs a good petting. But it was a bitter disappointment when I found that I could not stay with the brave boys who are offering up their lives for their country.”
“Never mind, dear boy. You could not help getting sick. I will bring you back both health and strength, and then—”
“And then they will take me back in the army, again. Oh, mother, do you think it possible?”
[Original]
Her face grew sad. She had not thought of that, and her heart experienced a bitter pang, for she felt that not even her love and care were to him so sweet and dear as was his country and her cause. It wounded her deeply when she saw that even in the flush of his delight at being home again, he could not help clouding her joy by expressing a wish that in her bosom found no response.
She sighed deeply, and made him no answer, but he was so absorbed in greeting his sisters and friends who had met to welcome him, that he did not notice her silence.