“No, no,” he said, just opening his eyes. “Do not grieve, mother. I shall be better off. I shall be with my father and Fred.”
“Oh, my son, my son, don’t lose heart!” she said, with a sob. “That will never do.”
“I saw my father last night,” said Temple.
The words seemed to strike her with a sort of shock. “No!” she exclaimed, perhaps thinking of the Temple superstition, and drawing back a step. “Pray, pray don’t fancy that!”
“The tent was open to give us air,” he said, speaking with difficulty. “I suddenly saw some one standing in the moonlight. I was next the opening; and I had not been able to get to sleep. For a moment I thought it was some man, some intruder passing by; but he took a strange likeness to my father, and I thought he beckoned——”
“We are not alone, Slingsby,” interrupted Mrs. Temple, remembering me, her voice cold, not to say haughty.
“Ludlow knows. He knew the last time. Fred said he saw him, and I—I ridiculed it. Ludlow heard me. My father came for Fred, mother; he must have come for me.”
“Oh, I can’t—I can’t believe this, Slingsby,” she cried, in some excitement. “It was fancy—nervousness; nothing else. My darling, I cannot lose you! You have ever been dearer to me than my other children.”
“Only for a little while, mother. It is God’s will. That is our true home, you know; and then there will be no more parting. I am quite happy. I seem to be half there now. What is that light?”