The woman had put down her work. Her face was white, her lips twitched nervously.
"Jim," she said pathetically—"Jim, this can only be one thing. Tell me quickly! O Jim, I can't bear it!"
"It's true, mother!" cried the boy. "It is the one thing. Yes, father is alive; there's news of him. He's coming home—coming to Beauleigh!"
Mrs. Hartland slipped to the floor, clasped her hands, and offered up a silent prayer to Heaven. She could not speak, but the joy and the praise and the thanksgiving were all there.
And then! Then they heard a click at the little gate, and a firm step on the path, and the front door was gently pushed open.
"O mother," cried Jim, "try to bear up! It is father!"
He came along, slowly and with even steps at first; but, in his own words, his patience bubbled over, his feet broke into a run, and the next instant he was within the kitchen clasping his wife in his arms.
"Mary!"
"John!"
Nothing more than that was heard for a long time, but no words were required to express their joy. Later in the evening there were numerous questions to be asked and answered, and the returned sailor's account of his wonderful escape to be given.