The tortured mother sank into a chair with a moan of anguish.
"But the danger is over now," continued Rose, gently. "The doctor says he will soon be well again."
Jacqueline's eyes fell on a photograph of the boy on the table beside her and she seized it with both hands and held it to her face.
"My Raymond! My laddie!" she sobbed, softly. "How he has grown! How big—and strong—he looks!"
"He does not look strong now, madame," and Rose shook her head.
"To think—that he might have died! And I should never have seen him again! My darling, my little laddie!" The face of the picture was wet with tears and kisses. "I wonder if he will recognize me! Does he remember me at all?" she cried eagerly.
The maid gave a start and an exclamation of alarm.
"Here's Monsieur Floriot!"
Jacqueline rose unsteadily with a smothered cry and all but reeled toward the door. In a moment Rose's arm was around her.
"No, no!" she whispered, reassuringly. "I was mistaken! I thought I heard him coming."