The words reached her ears at last, penetrating even to her starved and icy heart.
"Bernard!" She fell back a pace, and the door flew open, revealing her son and a lady by his side. The street light fell upon the two, and also upon the pale, astonished face of the unhappy woman they had come to see.
"Bernard!"
"Mother!" He put his arms round her neck, in his old boyish way, forgetting everything except that she was his mother, who was looking miserable, whilst he had come to her in his joy, with his dear young wife by his side.
"If any one cared ever so little, it would be different," she had said to herself. Well, here was Bernard, and he cared for her, in spite of everything, and--it was different.
"My son! My son! Forgive me," she said, clinging to him, her tears falling on his manly face and neck, as he kissed her tenderly.
"All right, mother! The past is past," he whispered. "I want you to welcome Doris," he added low in her ear. "She is my wife now."
Mrs. Cameron turned to Doris, holding out her hand, but the young wife raised her face, and she had to kiss her, too.
Then they went in, closing the street door after them; and Bernard, striking a light, lit up every gas-burner he could find about the place; so that the darkness was gone, and it was light, very light.
CHAPTER XXVII.