She was sitting at the window, with her elbow resting on its sill, and her head bowed upon her hand. How worn and wan she looked! Her face was scarcely less white than the snowy robe she wore. Her face was turned partly towards the window, and had an anxious, listening look, as if constantly watching for the coming of some beloved and long-expected one.
As soon as little Lenny saw his mother, he forgot all his promises, and sang out with all the strength of his baby lungs:
“Doosa! Doosa! See Lenny tome home!”
She turned her head quickly, screamed, and started up to meet him; but overwhelmed with emotion, sank back again into her chair and gasped for breath.
“Hush, hush, my boy; see you have hurt Doosa; be very good now!” whispered Alexander in a tone that awed the child into silence.
Then he crossed the room, knelt at her feet, and said:
“My wife, I have no word to say for myself. Let our child plead for me.”
And he laid little Lenny on her lap.
No, there was no scene that could he fully reported here.
Husband and child, both restored to her in an instant! It is a wonder she had not died then and there! But she did not even faint. Heaven, that had sustained her through such long-drawn-out, unutterable sorrows, gave her strength now to meet the sudden shock of joy.