He sat down beside his wife, and whispered words of consolation and of soothing. They would go home again—out of the atmosphere of deception. They would be happy once more in their own home on the Pacific slope.
"John," said Alice, "it was good of you to bring me over on the strength of a dream, and a promise of a dream—to give over all your work——"
"Nay, nay, lass. What is work compared with thee?"
"I shall see my son again. I have prayed for that. I did not pray, John—I could not—for his love—that was gone. Yet I hoped. Now I must be satisfied only to take his hands in mine."
"We will go home again—we will go home again."
"My dream said nothing about going home again." She was silent for a while. "John," she said, "what was it you were going to tell Molly and Dick?"
They were all three standing over her.
"Why," said John, "Alice had a fancy—because she loves you both—to see you join hands—so."
Alice laid her thin hands across their joined hands, and her lips moved.