Next evening, Cecile revelled even more than usual in the luxury of being able to stay at home.
It was after dinner; she was sitting on the sofa in her little boudoir with Dolf and Christie, an arm thrown round each of them, sitting between them, so young, like an elder sister. In her low voice she was telling them:
“Judah came near to him, and said, O my Lord, let me abide a bondman instead of the lad. For our father, who is such an old man, said to us, when we left with Benjamin, My son Joseph I have already lost; surely he is torn in pieces by the wild beasts. And if ye take this also from me and mischief befall him, ye shall bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Then (Judah said) I said to our father that I would be surety for the lad and that I should bear the blame if I did not bring Benjamin home again. And therefore I pray thee, O my lord, let me abide a bondman, and let the lad go up with his brethren. For how shall I go up to my father if the lad be not with me?...”
“And Joseph, mamma, what did Joseph say?” asked Christie.
He had nestled closely against his mother, this poor little slender fellow of six, with his fine golden hair and his eyes of pale forget-me-not blue; and his little fingers hooked themselves nervously into Cecile’s gown, rumpling the crape.
“Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him and he caused every man to leave him. And Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. And he wept aloud and said, I am Joseph.”
But Cecile could not continue the story, for Christie had thrown himself on her neck in a frenzy of despair and she heard him sobbing against her.
“Christie! Darling!”
She was greatly distressed; she had grown interested in her own recital and had not noticed Christie’s excitement; and now he was sobbing against her in such violent grief that she could find no word to quiet him, to comfort him, to tell him that it ended happily.
“But, Christie, don’t cry, don’t cry! It ends happily.”