Then they sat side by side, and hand in hand, in a sweet silence for a few moments, and then Clara said:
"You have not told your mother yet! Go and tell her, Traverse; it will make her so happy! And Traverse, I will be a daughter to her, while you are gone. Tell her that, too."
"Dear girl, you have always been as kind and loving to my mother as it was possible to be. How can you ever be more so than you have been?"
"I shall find a way!" smiled Clara.
Again he pressed her hand to his heart and to his lips, and left the room to find his mother. He had a search before he discovered her at last in the drawing-room, arranging it for their evening fireside gathering.
"Come, mother, and sit down by me on this sofa, for I have glorious tidings for your ear! Dear Clara sent me from her own side to tell you!"
"Ah, still thinking—always thinking, madly thinking of the doctor's daughter! Poor, poor boy!" said Mrs. Rocke.
"Yes, and always intend to think of her to the very end of my life, and beyond, if possible! But come, dear mother, and hear me explain!" said Traverse, and as soon as Mrs. Rocke had taken the indicated seat, Traverse commenced and related to her the substance of the conversation between the doctor and himself in the library, in which the former authorized his addresses to his daughter, and also his own subsequent explanation and engagement with Clara.
Mrs. Rocke listened to all this, in unbroken silence, and when, at length, Traverse had concluded his story, she clasped her hands and raised her eyes, uttering fervent thanksgivings to the fountain of all mercies.
"You do not congratulate me, dear mother."