“Joanna is here.”
“Julius! It is too much. You are sure I am awake? This is not the old dream!” cried the exile, grasping his cousin’s arm quite gainfully.
“I am a waking man, and I trust you are,” said Julius. “Come into the light. No, that is not Jenny on the step. It is my Rose. Yes, here he is!”
And as they came into the stream of light from the porch, Irish Rosamond, forgetting that Archie was not a brother, caught him by both hands, and kissed him in overpowering welcome, exclaiming, “Oh, I am so glad! Come in—come in!”
There he stood, blinking in the lamplight, a tall, powerful, broad-chested figure, but hardly a hero of romance to suit Terry’s fancy, after a rapid summary of the history from Rosamond. His hair and beard were as white as Julius’s, and the whole face was tanned to uniform red, but no one could mistake the dazed yet intense gladness of the look. He sank into a chair, clasped his hands over his face for a moment, then surveyed them all one by one, and said, “You told me she was here.”
“She is with her brother Herbert, at Mrs. Hornblower’s lodgings. No, you must wait, Archie; he has barely in the last few hours, by God’s great mercy, taken a turn for the better in this fever, and I don’t see how she can leave him.”
“But she must hear it,” cried Rosamond. “I’m going to make her or Cranky get some rest; but you ought to be the one to tell her, Julius, you that have stood by her through all.”
“And aren’t you burning to do so, Rosey, woman? and I think you had better, rather than that I should startle Herbert by returning; but stay, mind your own rules—eat and drink before you go, and give the same to Archie. I shall send up a note to Miles. How is Cecil?”
“Very silent and broken, poor thing. She is to see your mother to-morrow. How well it was that she kept me so late over her wreath of camellias!”
Archie submitted to wait for food and fuller information,—indeed the lady of the house manifested more impatience than he did, as she flitted about making preparations, and he sat with hands locked together over his knee, gazing fixedly at Julius, scarcely speaking, though eagerly listening; and when the meal was brought in, he could not eat, only eagerly drank off a cup of scalding tea, and watched Rosamond, as if jealous of any delay over her cutlet. She did not abuse his patience.