"Mother!"
His voice called, and his well-known thump came on the door-panel. The handle clicked. She controlled her shuddering and forced her stiffened tongue to speech.
"Come in, my own!"
The tall door swung slowly inwards. A wedge of brightness from the lighted landing threw his shadow over the white-enamelled door-post.... The darkness of the room soaked it greedily up. Then the doorway was a square of radiance with a little ghostly figure framed in it. All the light was behind him. She could not see his face, but she felt his eyes upon her.... Then the voice that her ears were sick for said with a quaver in its treble:
"It's dark, but I can hear you breathing! ... Mother, why didn't you and Father come? I thought when I got there I'd be sure to see you! ... But amongst all those faces and faces not one was yours—and—Man alive!—I wanted to blub a bit! I'm not quite sure that I didn't, you know!"
She stretched her arms to the beloved little ghost, whispering:
"My poor, poor love, my baby, my treasure! Mother knows how much it hurt. But be patient a little longer. Soon—soon—your father and I——"
The woe-wave rose and swelled in her bosom, tears began to run over her stiff white face. The clasped hands she stretched to him were quivering, but she controlled them like the trembling of her voice.
"Go back to Paradise, my little son! Wait patiently, my love, my Angel! I have been wrong, but I will grieve no more! I will be patient:—O! believe——"
A man's footsteps sounded on the staircase and the great shadowy figure of the Doctor appeared behind Bawne's little shape. With a swift movement Saxham caught up the bewildered boy, made one long stride across the threshold, and put the warm, living treasure into the mother's outstretched arms...