Her keen, fine black eyes, so like his own, lifted themselves inquiringly to his face as he entered.
"Well, as you have taken such a long time to carry out my behest, I take it that you were well received, my son."
"Yes, I was, but that is not what delayed me," he answered as he bent to kiss her.
Then in a few words he made her acquainted with the tragedy of the morning. As she listened, full of grief and sympathy, she, unconsciously to herself, watched her son keenly. She saw that he was moved far beyond his wont, that his voice, when he spoke of Isla Mackinnon, vibrated with an entirely new note. And she wondered, and her desire to see the girl was quickened.
"She is the most desolate creature on God's earth, mother, and if only I could wrap you up in my arms and carry you to Creagh you could heal her with a touch, as you have so often healed your other children."
The expression "your other children" impressed her. Could it be possible that already Peter's thoughts and longings had flown as far as the day when he should give another daughter to her heart?
"You must bring her to me, dear. It is the only way."
"Vivien is going up. Next to you, she will be the best to help her. It is a woman that she needs. All her life long apparently she has been fighting side by side with men."
"Fighting!" repeated Mrs. Rosmead with a slight wonderment in her tone.
"Well, you know, she has had to do everything for and to be everything to the old man."