“Mother, will you come up and see—my wife?”
Mrs. Carter rose, with a gasp, glancing at her husband. She met assent in his eyes, and she hurried out into the hall. William stood there, his face changed and softened, but still very pale. His eyes met his mother’s, and he held out his hand.
“She’s come out of her delirium. She knows me—and she wants to ask your forgiveness,” he said in a low voice, swallowing a lump in his throat.
Mrs. Carter clung to his arm, lifting her face to his.
“Oh, Willie!” she sobbed, and kissed him.
The colonel and Mr. Carter saw the mother and son going up-stairs together.
“It’s all right,” said the colonel with manifest relief. “I’m mighty glad of it!”
Mr. Carter made no reply, but lifted his glass of iced tea slowly to his lips and drank it. He felt choked. He was registering a silent vow that, whatever happened, Emily shouldn’t paint her eyelashes!
Virginia, smiling at her grandfather, slipped quietly out of the room. She stood for a moment in the wide, cool hall, listening. She could hear the faint murmur of voices above her, and the tramp of Daniel’s nervous feet. Outside the door the warm sunshine seemed to pulsate, and a thousand little gnats danced in a circle in mid air. Virginia crossed the hall softly and stood in the door.
Daniel, very pale and quiet, stopped his marching up and down. His eyes met hers with a silent interrogation.