"Don't speak sharply to him, Salome," she sobbed. "I will try what I can do. He does love me. I shall wait up for him to-night, and you can go to bed. Let us have prayers now."
To the surprise of his mother and Salome, though scarcely more than half-past nine, Raymond's key was heard in the door, and he came in, throwing his ulster on a chair and his hat on it.
"Is it raining, Raymond?" his mother asked.
"No," was the short answer; and then there was silence till Stevens came in with the Bible, and Reginald, with a rough, shaggy head of hair, and ink on his fingers, followed her into the room.
CHAPTER XII.
CONFIDENCES.
SALOME did not know what passed between Raymond and her mother, but when she came up to her room, she heard her speaking cheerfully to Stevens, who always came to attend on her mistress, as in old days. Salome had slept in a small iron bedstead in a corner of her mother's room since Ada had left home, in order that Raymond might have the one she had shared with her sister to himself. Salome, however, still kept her property in her old room, and her manuscript and heaps of books and scribbles were in the drawer there, so that she often went into it.
The next morning Salome got up early, with the intention of posting her roll and the letter at the nearest Elm Fields post-office before breakfast. It seemed that Raymond had changed his habits, for Salome met him ready dressed in the passage, as she softly left her mother's room.