All was silent for a while, and then the medical man began to talk in an ordinary way with the young people on indifferent subjects, but all the while marking the effect of their voices on their mother. She was manifestly coming to feel that those voices were very familiar to her, and to have her heart and thoughts drawn out towards the speakers. “We will move on now,” said the physician after a few minutes had been spent in general conversation. Then, giving his arm to his patient, he turned to her children and said, “Shall we meet here again the day after to-morrow at the same hour?” Amos bowed his assent, and, without any special word of farewell, they parted.
On the appointed morning the same party met on the beach. The good doctor at once began, “I have brought your mother to see you to-day, my young friends. She was a little confused when you last met, not having been quite well; but I believe you will find her comfortable now.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Huntingdon, “it is all right now. Yes, I see you are my dear children, Julia, and Amos, and Walter; but what a long time it seems since I last saw you! Come to me, my children.”
They gathered round her, eager to show their love, and yet fearing to be too demonstrative.
“Ah, well,” she continued, “Dr Atkin has told me all about it. He says that I have not been well—that my mind has been confused, but is getting better now. Yes, you are my Julia, and you are my Walter and Amos. How kind of you to come and see me. And—and—your father, my husband, how is he? How it all crowds back upon me!”
“You must not excite yourself, dear mother,” said Amos.
“No, dear boy, that’s true,” she replied; “but all will be well, no doubt. Will you sing me a hymn?” So they all drew close to her, Julia laying her head in her lap, and there feeling a mother’s tears dropping fast upon her forehead, while Amos and Walter each held a hand. Then all joined in a hymn, Mrs Huntingdon taking her part.
As the party were breaking up, Dr Atkin took Amos aside and told him that the lost balance was now nearly recovered, that his mother had become able to think connectedly, and that the tangle in her mind had, through the judicious intercourse with her children, and the associations that intercourse had called forth, been unravelled and smoothed out. She might now form one of their party at the cottage, and by a careful avoidance on their part of all undue excitement, and the engaging her in cheerful and well-chosen subjects of conversation, the restored reason would become settled and strengthened, and she might return in a few weeks to her old home, and be able to bear by degrees the recurrence of old memories which old familiar scenes would call up, and the resuming of those duties and responsibilities from which her infirmities had so long shut her out.
Oh, with what thankfulness did Amos hear the physician’s conclusion; and how warm and loving was the welcome which greeted the poor restored one as she entered, a few days later, the sea-side cottage, and took her place in the comfortable armchair arranged for her in a snug corner, where she could look out upon the sea, and at the same time be close to all those dear ones who were now once more truly her own. And day by day, as the mind of that beloved mother became clearer and stronger, they were able with prudent gentleness to make her understand the state of things at home and the sad history of her unhappy son-in-law; while at the same time Amos never lost an opportunity of directing his dear mother to that Word of consolation, which he knew would be to her, as it had been to himself, the only true and satisfying fountain of abiding peace. And thus it was that she now learned to love that Bible which, in former days, had never been really her stay, for she had not then given her heart to Him who is the author, the centre, and the giver of all truth, peace, and consolation.