“Your mother!” said the curate gravely. “She is well and happy as she can be, without the son she is always pining for and praying for.”
“Heaven be praised for that! And may the Lord forgive me. Where is she, sir, if you please?”
“With us here in the house, our cherished housekeeper, almost our mother——”
“Thank the Lord! Can I see her, sir, now, at once? I have come a long way to ask her forgiveness at last, and to stay with her forever.”
“Come into my study. We must prepare her for the sight of her son, for although she seems to be always expecting you, yet the sudden meeting might be too much for her,” said the curate as he closed the front door after the entrance of his visitor and led the way into the study.
“Now, Mr. Longman, sit down here at my desk and write a letter to your mother. It need be only a line or so, to give me the means of breaking the glad tidings safely to her ears,” said Mr. Campbell as he turned up the light of the study lamp and placed a chair for the visitor.
Longman obeyed like a child, and sat down and wrote his letter.
“Will that do?” he inquired as he put the sheet of paper into the curate’s hands.
“Yes! that will do very well. Now put it into an envelope and seal and direct it regularly,” said the curate when he had read and returned the letter.
Again Longman obeyed like a child, and when he had sealed the letter, arose and placed it in the hands of the curate.