Entering the house with a little of the sense of loss which, even in the Happy World, accompanies the absence of those we love, and wondering when my father would be once more with me, I was startled at hearing his voice—no, voices; there were two; they came from an upper chamber, and the silent house echoed gently with their subdued words.
I stood for a moment listening below; I felt the color flash out of my face; my heart stood still. I took a step or two forward—hesitated—advanced with something like fear. The dog pushed before me, and urged me to follow. After a moment’s thought I did so, resolutely.
The doors stood open everywhere, and the evening air blew in with a strong and wholesome force. No one had heard me. Guided by the voices of the unseen speakers I hurried on, across the hall, through my own room, and into that sacred spot I have spoken of, wherein for so many solitary years my dear father had made ready for her coming who was the joy of his joy, in Heaven, as she had been on earth.
For that instant, I saw all the familiar details of the room in a blur of light. It was as if a sea of glory filled the place. Across it, out beyond the window, on the balcony which overlooked the hill-country and the sea, stood my father and my mother, hand in hand.
She did not hear me, even yet. They were talking quietly, and were absorbed. Uncertain what to do, I might even have turned and left them undisturbed, so sacred seemed that hour of theirs to me; so separate in all the range of experience in either world, or any life. But her heart warned her, and she stirred, and so saw me—my dear mother—come to us, at last.
Oh, what arms can gather like a mother’s, whether in earth or Heaven? Whose else could be those brooding touches, those raining tears, those half-inarticulate maternal words? And for her, too, the bitterness is passed, the blessedness begun. Oh, my dear mother! My dear mother! I thank God I was the child appointed to give you welcome—thus....
“And how is it with Tom,—poor Tom!”
“He has grown such a fine fellow; you cannot think. I leaned upon him. He was the comfort of my old age.”
“Poor Tom!”
“And promises to make such a man, dear! A good boy. No bad habits, yet. Your father is so pleased that he makes a scholar.”