Thereupon the strange procession resumed its march toward the distant town of Dunbarton, pausing at short intervals to call and signal to the missing one.
It was a vast relief to all that the weather continued so mild and pleasant. In the earlier part of the day there were some signs of an approaching storm, but the signs had vanished and the night was one of the most pleasant seen in September.
Had the rain begun to fall, or had the temperature lowered, the mother would have been distracted, for nothing could have lessened the pangs caused by her knowledge that her darling one was suffering. The true mother lives for her children, and their joys and sorrows are hers.
Whenever the wind rustled among the branches around them she shuddered and instinctively drew her own shawl closer about her shoulder; she would have given a year's toil could she have wrapped the thick woolen garment about the tiny form of her loved one, who never seemed so dear to her as then.
"Gustav," she whispered, twitching his elbow, "I want to speak one word to you."
"Speak out; they cannot understand us," he answered, alluding to the fact that they were using their own language.
"Yes, but I don't want Nick to know what I say."
The husband thereupon fell back beside her, and in a tremulous voice she said:
"Do you remember when Nellie was three years old?"
"Of course I remember further back than that: why do you ask?"