"Perhaps—perhaps." He considered a little. "Look here, Sir Humphrey, I am on my way to see Mrs. Haveril. Be here—don't go away—I shall come back in an hour or two, with something to tell you."
[CHAPTER XXVI.]
THE SECOND MOTHER.
When we are waiting for the call to do something—to say something—of cardinal importance; something that will affect the whole of our life, all that remains of it: when we are uncertain what will happen after or before we have said or done that something; then the very air round us is charged with the uncertainty of the time. Even the hall and the staircase of the Hôtel Métropole, when Molly entered that humble guest-house, seemed trembling with anxiety. Her cousin's rooms were laden with anxiety as with electricity.
"Come in, Molly," said Alice. "No, I am not any better; I try to rest, but I cannot. I keep saying to myself, 'I shall get my son back; I shall get my son back.' How long shall I have to wait?"
"I hope—to-morrow. Dick has prepared a way to tell him."
"Will he be ready to go away with his own mother, to America, do you think, Molly dear?"
"Perhaps. But you must remember. He has his own friends and his own occupations. And we don't know yet——"
"He will be glad—oh, how glad!—to get his true mother back. He's a handsome boy, isn't he, Molly? As tall as his father—Dick isn't nearly so tall—and stout and strong, like my family. He's like Cousin Charles."