(Dr. Thorne, as if she were a goddess, still not daring to caress her, lays his cheek upon her soft hair. Before her face, but not touching it, he delicately curves his hand as if he enclosed a sacred flame from the rude air.)
Helen Thorne (lifts her face to his. Her eyes, all womanly, turn to him in Paradise as they did on earth. She speaks softly). I am in Heaven ... after all!
Dr. Thorne. And I have never been there ... until now! (He clasps her slowly to his heart; turns her face back upon his arm and reverently looks at it; scans it adoringly; humbly crying.) Helen! Helen!
(Dr. Thorne kisses his wife’s brow—eyes—cheek—and then her lips. Suddenly, around the curve in the path where the thicket of roses blossoms, running rapidly,)
Enter Laddie (carrying a stalk of the
white lilies. He cries). Papa! Papa!
I’ve lost you, Papa! (The child runs
down the path. Closely following
him, fair and gentle, brightly smiling,)
Enter Mrs. Fayth. (She draws back
quickly; utters an inarticulate exclamation;
extends her hands in an impulsive
gesture of delight. But she
withdraws and puts her finger on her
lips. She retreats without speaking.)
(Mrs. Fayth, hidden for a moment behind the thicket of roses, reappears beyond with the other spirits. The group of spirits stirs upward in the bright scenery.)
(Dr. Thorne and his Wife, having seen or heard nothing, still stand rapt, embracing solemnly.)
Laddie (stops on the path, irresolute. Frowns a little in pretty, childish perplexity; makes as if he would go back; looks at the two again. Then suddenly darts forward; cries). Why, that’s my Mamma! (Springs to her; clutches at her white robe, pulls at her hand.)
Helen Thorne (recognizes the child instantly, despite his larger stature; she cries out). Why, my little boy! Mother’s baby boy! Oh! you again, ... you, too! My little, little boy. (Catches him to her; kisses him wildly; holds him, and releases him, and holds him again. Murmurs half-intelligible words brokenly.) Mother’s baby!... Mother’s beauty!... Oh, mamma missed you, sonny-boy—
(Dr. Thorne does not speak. His face is shining. He holds his wife within his arms as if he feared to lose her if he loosened them.)