"Give me your hand!" he said. His voice quivered and the woman could feel him tremble. "Do you remember during the trial just now," he went on unsteadily as he slowly bent toward her, "when I turned toward you, you took my hand and pressed it? I—I could feel your eyes—looking into my very heart! I—I—wanted then—to take you in my arms—and press you to my heart!"
Her wild eyes closed and her body was rigid and tense.
"Will you—won't you—won't you kiss me—mother?" The words rushed out in a sob as he slid from the chair to his knees by her side. With a cry that was more than human and strength that was more than a woman's, she flung her arms around his neck, crushed his dark head to her bosom and rained kisses on his eyes and hair and lips and brow....
"Oh, my Raymond! My darling! My darling boy!" she sobbed again and again, and his face was wet with her tears....
"It is too much! Ah, God! I can't stand this joy! My Raymond! My little laddie!..."
Minute after minute passed and there was no sound but Jacqueline's quick breathing.
"Are you in pain, mother?" he murmured tenderly, trying to lift his head. He could feel against his cheek that the tumultuous beating of her heart suddenly died away to an unsteady flutter.
"No, no, dear!" she whispered, faintly. "Don't go! Don't move! How—did you—know——?"
"Father just told me, mother mine!" he replied, softly, nestling his head into the hollow where it had not lain for twenty-three years. "He told me all that you had suffered. But it is over now. We'll forget those long years of separation—together!"
Her reply was a long, delicious hug and a dozer? soft kisses. There was another silence. Then Raymond spoke, a little timidly: