"Yes, sure; I've never been such a long way before and I'm tired out."
"Why didn't you write?" he asked presently, when she opened her eyes again.
"I wanted to give you a surprise," she said; "and I knew as you'd be glad to see me at any time as I liked to come."
And then it dawned on him that the past eighteen months had been blotted clean out of her memory, and that she thought she had just arrived. Then she dozed and then again spoke, "And so this is your house, Laddie? And mighty fine it be!" looking round on the bare hospital room; "and I'm that comfortable if I wasn't so tired, but I'll be getting up when I'm rested a bit. But it do me good to see you when I opens my eyes. I've been thinking all the way how pleased you'd be." All this she said a word or two at a time, and very low and weakly, so that only a son's ear could have heard.
As the evening came on she fell asleep very quietly, such a sleep as, if hope had been possible, might have given hope. Dr. Carter left the nurse watching her and went away, got a hansom and offered the man double fare to take him to Harley Street as fast as possible. Violet had just come in from a flower show, and looker a flower herself, with her sweet face and dainty dress.
"I have found her," Laddie said. "Come." And she came without asking a question, only knowing from Laddie's face that there was sorrow as well as joy in the finding.
"She is dying," he said, as they went up the hospital stairs together. "Can you bear it?"
She only answered by a pressure of her hand on his arm, and they went on to the quiet room. There was a shaded light burning, and the nurse sitting by the bedside.
"She has not stirred, sir, since you left."
But even as she spoke, the old woman moved and opened her eyes, looking first at Laddie and then on Violet.