It was on the day following that Morris Severing violently disconcerted his parent and rejoiced the hearts of those who had been devoutly praying for his return into the paths of filial devotion, by suddenly arriving in a small motor at the convent door and charming the old lay-sister who opened it by his eager and affectionate announcement that he had come in order to surprise his mother.
XV
WHETHER or no Morris was fully aware of the complete success which crowned this endeavour might remain open to question. He had recently, while in Paris, made an Italian friend who, a victim to home-sickness, had spoken much and eloquently of “la famiglia” in distant Rome. The impressionable Morris, rapidly becoming a dozen times more home-sick, if possible, than his friend, was soon finding it imperative that he should return to Pensevern, and his widowed mother. The reception, on the very morning of his departure, of Nina’s letter announcing her sudden descent upon the convent, had merely served to increase her son’s impetuous ardour for a meeting.
“I thought of you in uncongenial surroundings, as you wrote that you were, and probably lonely, and I felt I had to come,” said Morris, with the direct and manly air of simplicity that he always regarded as one of his achievements.
“And how many times during the last year have I written and told you that I was lonely, and implored you to come home, and you have turned a deaf ear, Morris?” asked Nina, with stern sadness.
His face hardened—intentionally.
“I have made a mistake, evidently. I thought that after all these months—but I might have known——” He broke off with a shrug, which he felt to be a distinct improvement on that of the Italian friend, who happened to be small and weedy.
“Might have known what? Don’t be so affected and ridiculous, Morris, giving mysterious hints that mean nothing.”
“I might have known,” said Morris slowly and sadly, “that you would hardly want to be interrupted in the midst of a new—enthusiasm.”
His deliberate gaze round the convent parlour gave great point to the description.