In a few moments Espy had learned from Ethel all that Hetty had had to tell of her fellow-passengers of the previous day.
His interest and excitement were only second to Ethel’s, and he shared both her conviction and her presentiment.
“Yes,” he said eagerly, “it is your mother! I seem somehow to feel that it must be so; and now the question is how to bring you together.”
“Yes,” sighed Ethel, “we might all be here every day while the Exhibition lasts, yet never meet. But no, I will not fear it! I will trust in God, who hath helped me hitherto,” she added, smiling brightly through gathering tears.
Espy regarded her with admiring, loving eyes.
“That is right!” he said cheerfully, “and I feel sure your faith will be rewarded. You are looking tired; let us sit down here and rest while we talk it over.”
He had led her into a side path, and to a bench that stood in the shade of a wide-spreading tree.
“It may sound conceited,” he said, “but I do believe that my pictures are now to play a conspicuous part in the drama and do you good service—as truly they ought, being mine, and I your humble slave,” he added sportively, seeking to win her from anxiety and care.
She smiled, but sadly still, as she made answer: “I hope they may; but how is it to be managed? It is with them as with the rest of the Exposition—we and those we seek may visit them again and again, yet never at the same time.”
He mused a moment.