“Yes, mother: but don’t, for heaven’s sake, excite yourself; it may make you ill again.”
“What will make me ill? I want you to understand. I’ve not been ill, only—that they might have no suspicion. Fred, above all things I want you to understand that I am in my full senses, meaning every word I say.”
“Yes, mother,” he said, pressing her hand.
She renewed her grip upon it, as if she were holding fast to something lest she should be carried away. “Well!” she said, with a long-drawn breath. Then looking him fall in the eyes as if to defy misunderstanding: “Fred,” she said, “I have seen your father!”
“Mother!” he cried.
“Hush—this was what I was afraid of—that you would think me out of my senses. Look at me. I am not calm, perhaps, but I am as steady as you are.” (That was not saying much; but absorbed in her own extraordinary sensations, Mrs. Dalyell fortunately did not notice Fred.) “I was not thinking of him, nor even questioning as I sometimes do. I was more quiet than usual: when, just there, where the curtain is, I saw your father!”
“You must have been over-excited, mother, though you did not know it. My coming home and the girls’ talk—and all of us making ourselves disagreeable—without knowing it your mind must have——”
“My mind was quite calm. I made allowance for you children. I could have sympathised with you. But don’t go away with any such idea. I saw your father—as plain as I ever saw him in my life.”
What could Fred say? He patted her hand to soothe her, and shook his head gently; he could not trust himself to speak.
“It all passed in a moment,” she went on. “He said something. I feel sure he used the word marriage, but I was too much startled to make out, and I was so foolish as to give that cry. I can’t tell you what a dreadful feeling came upon me. I am not a woman to scream, but I could not help it. And he disappeared, and they all came rushing in.”