Imelda expressed her delight in finding in him a friend of her friends, and was about to move on when Mr. Arthurs asked for Hilda. That maiden was discovered serenely smiling and rosily blushing while listening to some, from all appearance, highly interesting tale of Lawrence Westcot’s. Edith forthwith drew her new-found friend in the direction of the two.
With a happy smile upon her face, reflecting the sunshine of her heart in her eyes, Imelda was flying from group to group when they suddenly rested upon the sad face of a boy whose form was half hidden in the heavy curtain of a deep bay window to which he had withdrawn himself. In a moment she saw it all. The boy had requested not to be introduced to his mother at the depot. He would wait a more favorable opportunity.
“It would only excite her,” he said, “and be very unsatisfactory.”
His request had been granted, but in the excitement that followed he had momentarily been forgotten. Not dreaming that her son might be among this group of bright intelligent people Mrs. Leland was giving her every thought to winsome Cora whose heart was being drawn out to meet hers in glad response.
Imelda crossed the room to where Osmond stood. His eyes filled with tears as she approached,
“Why so sad, my boy? Cheer up! Do you think you are now ready to look into your mother’s eyes?”
“My mother! how strange the words sound; but I am afraid!”
“‘Afraid!’ Afraid of what?”
“Of the disappointment that may possibly fill them when they rest on me. It would hurt if there should be but a momentary reflection therein.”
Imelda’s gentle hand lifted the chin of the boy that was drooping in a dejected manner,