“Those words that speak of the fear of a disappointment show that you have not known a mother’s heart. Come now and have this fear cast out,”—and taking the trembling boy by the hand she drew him from his hiding place and approached with him the woman to whom he owed his being. Laying one arm about his neck Imelda drew his face to hers, with her other hand she touched Mrs. Leland’s arm to draw her attention.
“See! Mamma Leland. Who is this I bring you?”
It was a moment of intense expectation. Mrs. Leland quickly turned, and for a moment stared—then gave a quick gasp. That face! Just for a moment she had thought it was Margaret, so great was the resemblance, but only a moment. His look was strange and yet not strange. From his face she glanced to that of Imelda, and back again to the boy. She rose from her chair pressing both hands to her madly beating heart. Her face became deathly white. Slowly the boy’s hands were extended towards her—an agonized pleading look lay in the large blue eyes.
“Mother!” broke from the pallid lips.
“Osmond!” echoed the mother, and then she folded her long lost child, her darling boy! in close embrace near to her wildly beating heart.
For a moment Mrs. Leland felt faint and dizzy, then her pent-up feeling found vent in a flood of tears, with which were mingled those of Osmond. The tension on his nerves had been too great, but both strove hard to conquer their emotions, and for some time they sat in a wordless embrace, reading what they felt in each others eyes. Tenderly her trembling hand smoothed the sunny locks and the pearly drops again gathered in her eyes as she thought how her baby had been permitted to grow and develop, until he stood upon the brink of manhood without the guidance of her hand. His boyhood’s years—they had come and gone without bringing her mother’s heart the privilege of watching over the tender soul’s moulding. O, to have been with him! to share his joys and to soften and smooth his childish troubles.
But now? Why dwell upon the past with its many bitternesses and trials? Did not the present moment outweigh all the sufferings? all the dark hours of woe? Her boy was still her own, with a soul pure and true. Should she not rather be thankful? With an overflowing heart she drew the boy’s face down to hers, giving vent to all the pent-up feelings that were causing her heart to heave and her lips to seek a loving, clinging mother’s kiss. Imelda’s eyes filled with tears; without another word she gently touched Cora’s arm and together they withdrew, leaving the two to enjoy their new-found happiness.
Imelda drew her sister in the direction of the piano, where Norman and Wilbur were still standing, welding the friendship that was to last throughout all the years of their after-life. With a little dextrous movement the girls managed to reach the instrument without attracting the notice of the men and only when Cora’s rich, sweet voice filled the room with joyous song did they become aware of their close proximity.
Every voice was hushed, every word suspended while she sang. Who was this girl, possessed of such a glorious voice? When the music ceased and the song ended Cora turned and faced her audience. Wilbur was struck with the rare beauty of the face, coupled with a strange sense of familiarity. Imelda smiled, as she caught the puzzled look upon his face,
“It is Cora, Wilbur.” That was their introduction—just as a matter of course—feeling they would need no other. But Wilbur was not satisfied, and begged that Cora would sing again; and she, nothing loath, did sing again. It was the first time this week she had sung—with the anxiety for the possible fate of the absent ones she had had no heart to sing. But tonight she felt happy; so why should she not? Turning over the pile of music her eye fell upon “The Wandering Refugee.” The music was sweet, if the words were sad; and as the sad, sweet strains filled the room their influence was felt by everyone present, toning down the exciting joy that filled every heart. Just as the last notes died away a rasping noise was heard at the window. Glancing up they became aware of a white face being pressed against the large pane. Only a momentary appearance, and almost in an instant it was gone. But in that instant both girls had seen it and—had they recognized it? Both pairs of lips breathed the prayer—“I hope not!”