“Presently. But I wish to send a line by you to your mother before I go to her. I will dress while you take it.”
Wynnette entered the room, closed the door, and sat down on the side of the little bed to wait for the “line.”
Mr. Force went to the small stand, and wrote:
“Dearest dear, I have read your paper, and I love you as ever—more than ever, if that were possible; for love is deepened and sanctified by sympathy with all that you have suffered. Send me word by our Wynnette if you feel well enough to see me. I am longing to be with you.”
He folded the paper and gave it to his daughter, saying:
“Go in to see your mother, and when you have kissed and embraced her give her this note, and wait until she reads it. Then bring me any message that she may send.”
Wynnette took the missive, wondering a little why her father should send it, and left the room to deliver it.
But Mr. Force had acted with prudent foresight. He feared that, in his wife’s nervous and enfeebled condition, the sudden sight of him in her room while she was yet in doubt about his feelings toward her, might have a disastrous effect upon her health. Therefore he had sent the short, loving message as a preparation for his visit.
He dressed himself in a great hurry, and waited for the return of Wynnette.
She came while he was drawing on his coat.