Presently the old house burst upon their view. There it stood on a slight eminence, while behind it great trees rose. Away from the front of the building stretched grassy lawns and flower gardens, while beyond was parkland, studded by giant trees.
And still neither spoke. Hand in hand they walked towards the entrance door, Dick gazing at it earnestly, as if looking for something. When they had come within a dozen yards of it both, as if by mutual consent, stood still.
Was it fancy or was it real? Was it because expectancy was in both their hearts, and their imagination on fire, or did they really see?
This is what both of them told me they saw.
Standing in the doorway, with hands outstretched as if in the attitude of welcoming them, was the luminous figure of a woman. Her face was lit up with holy joy, while in her eyes was no sorrow, no doubt, but a look of ineffable happiness.
For a few seconds she stood gazing on them, and Dick saw the look of love in her eyes, saw the rapture that seemed to pervade her being. It was the same face he had seen there before, the same love-lit eyes.
She lifted her hands as if in benediction, and then slowly the figure faded away.
"It is my mother," whispered Dick. He had no remembrance of his mother, but he knew it was she. He felt no fear, there was nothing to be fearful about, rather a great joy filled his life. God had sent his angel to tell him that all was well.
The door stood open, and they entered the great silent hall together. No one was in sight. He opened his arms, and she came to him.
"Welcome home, my wife," he said.