“Not for the world,” he answered, “go in, Louis,” and he opened the door for me to pass.
The next moment, I found myself in a large drawing-room but faintly lighted; but there was a smaller one beyond, with a better light, and seated on a sofa there, I beheld a lady, with her handkerchief lying on the table beside her, and her eyes buried in her hands. The opening door made her look up, and I saw the beautiful but faded face of Lady Catharine covered with tears. The moment she beheld me, she sprang up from the sofa, ran forward, cast her arms round my neck, and I heard the words—“My son, my son!”
——
THE COLOPHON.
I must not pause to describe emotions, nor can I indeed narrate regularly, or distinctly, all that occurred during the next half hour. I had found a parent—a mother. O, how dear, how charming that name. Those who have gone on from childhood to manhood under a loved mother’s eye, and have only parted with her at the threshold of that gate which we must all pass, can form no idea of the sensations experienced by one who has never known a mother’s care, when he hears the very word mentioned—the longing, the yearning, the never-to-be satisfied desire to see the face, to hear the voice, to press the lips of her who gave us birth.
I had found a mother, and I sat beside her, with her hand clasped in mine, her head leaning on my shoulder, her eyes turned toward my face, speaking short words of love, often silent, but with a silence full of affection. For that half-hour there were no explanations, no connected conversation. All was wild and strong emotion, the first overflowings of love between parent and child, after a separation of twenty years.
We might have gone on much longer in the same way, but then there came a light knock at the door. It opened, and Westover’s voice said—
“May I come in?”
“O, yes, come in, come in, Charles,” said my mother. “Come in, my second son; my noble, my generous boy. I should not be half-happy if you did not share in the joy you have aided to bring about.”
Westover entered, and sat down by us, saying—with a smile, while he shook me warmly by the hand—