“Oh, John! John! What is it?”
“Paul’s safe,” said he, wrapping her in his arms. “He’s safe in Winnipeg, and on his way to us, Mother!”
“Oh, is it true? Is it true?” she almost screamed, and began to weep and laugh hysterically as he repeated the telegram to her.
Then with her head on his shoulder she wept quietly, deliciously, joyously, and the tears washed away the grief of months.
“Oh, Father,” she said at length, lifting a tear-stained but happy face to his, as she dried her eyes, “it’s a miracle. But I can’t wait to see him—I just can’t!”
“Well, get ready, dear, to leave on the eight o’clock train this evening. We’re to go to Toronto to meet him—if Dr. Philpot says you may.”
Dr. Philpot, who had joined them to observe his patient, said she might if one of the trained nurses went too.
“And,” added the doctor, “I think I’ll go with you.”
An hour later Remington was announced. A load of anxiety and self-condemnation lifted from his shoulders, he, too, was in a state of happy excitement.