He turned and went into the cabin.
He found the room once occupied by his mother very comfortably arranged for his accommodation. A good fire was blazing in the chimney, and on the hearth before it was a pitcher of chocolate kept warm for him.
He drank its contents gratefully and went to rest.
CHAPTER VI
HARCOURT AT LONE LODGE
The profound quiet of the little vale, the soothing tinkle of the little stream, lulled the wearied traveler into a slumber so deep and prolonged that the sun was high above before he woke.
Then it took him a few minutes to collect his faculties and realize his position. He looked with something like a faint content on the humble, peaceful scene around him. He lay for a little while in a sort of restful trance, and then suddenly remembered all that he had heard from Martha on the previous night about his mother’s state, and he sprang out of bed and dressed in haste, so that he might the sooner see that beloved parent and judge for himself of her condition.
When he had hurried through his plain toilet he opened his room door and crossed the narrow passage into the kitchen.
There he found no one present, though every preparation was completed for his breakfast.
There was a glorious wood fire in the wide, open chimney, and bright tin-covered dishes sitting on the stone hearth before it; a pine table laid with a fine, white, well darned damask cloth—a vestige of better days at Lone Lodge, like the rare and costly, but chipped and mismatched old china that adorned it.
Harcourt understood the situation.