His mother smiled. Paul wondered that this had never struck him at home.
“She is much cleverer than you are,” he thought.
Now they entered the garden. It was much larger and more beautiful than the one at Mussainen, but there was nothing to be seen of a sundial. Paul had formed a vague idea of it as a great golden tower, on which a round, sparkling disk of the sun formed the dial-plate.
“Where is the sundial, mamma?” he asked.
“I will show it to you afterwards,” said the little girl, eagerly.
From the arbor came a tall, slender lady, with a pale, delicate face, on which shone an inexpressibly sweet smile.
His mother gave a cry, and threw herself on her breast, sobbing loudly.
“Thank God that I have you with me once again!” said the stranger, and kissed his mother on her brow and cheeks.
“Believe me, all will now be well; you will tell me what weighs upon your mind, and it will be strange if I cannot help you.”
His mother dried her eyes and smiled.