‘Welcome home, my lad,’ was his greeting, as he kissed his son, and the tremor of his voice, and the sight of the two men kissing each other, like women, sent me again to my horses’ heads.
‘There’s Connor, mother!’ shouted out Graeme, and the dainty little lady, in her black silk and white lace, came out to me quickly, with outstretched hands.
‘You, too, are welcome home,’ she said, and kissed me.
I stood with my hat off, saying something about being glad to come, but wishing that I could get away before I should make quite a fool of myself. For as I looked down upon that beautiful face, pale, except for a faint flush upon each faded cheek, and read the story of pain endured and conquered, and as I thought of all the long years of waiting and of vain hoping, I found my throat dry and sore, and the words would not come. But her quick sense needed no words, and she came to my help.
‘You will find Jack at the stable,’ she said, smiling; ‘he ought to have been here.’
The stable! Why had I not thought of that before? Thankfully now my words came—
‘Yes, certainly, I’ll find him, Mrs. Graeme. I suppose he’s as much of a scapegrace as ever, and off I went to look up Graeme’s young brother, who had given every promise in the old days of developing into as stirring a rascal as one could desire; but who, as I found out later, had not lived these years in his mother’s home for nothing.
‘Oh, Jack’s a good boy,’ she answered, smiling again, as she turned toward the other two, now waiting for her upon the walk.
The week that followed was a happy one for us all; but for the mother it was full to the brim with joy. Her sweet face was full of content, and in her eyes rested a great peace. Our days were spent driving about among the hills, or strolling through the maple woods, or down into the tamarack swamp, where the pitcher plants and the swamp lilies and the marigold waved above the deep moss. In the evenings we sat under the trees on the lawn till the stars came out and the night dews drove us in. Like two lovers, Graeme and his mother would wander off together, leaving Jack and me to each other. Jack was reading for divinity, and was really a fine, manly fellow, with all his brother’s turn for rugby, and I took to him amazingly; but after the day was over we would gather about the supper table, and the talk would be of all things under heaven—art, football, theology. The mother would lead in all. How quick she was, how bright her fancy, how subtle her intellect, and through all a gentle grace, very winning and beautiful to see!
Do what I would, Graeme would talk little of the mountains and his life there.