Poynsett lay with
deepening colour and clasped hands, her nostrils dilating with
anxiety and suppressed eagerness, there entered a tall, dark,
sunburnt man bringing on his arm a little, trim, upright, girlish
figure; and bending down, he exclaimed, "There, mother, I've brought
her--here's your daughter!"
Two little gloved hands were put into hers, and a kiss exchanged,
while Raymond anxiously inquired for his mother's health; and she
broke in by saying, "And here is Anne--Miles's Anne, just arrived."
"Ah, I did not see you in the dark," said Raymond. "There, Cecil,
is a sister for you--you never had one."
Cecil was readier with greeting hand and cheek than was Anne, but at
the same moment the tea equipage was brought in, and Cecil, quite
naturally, and as a matter of course, began to preside over the low
table, while Raymond took his accustomed chair on the further side
of his mother's sofa, where he could lean over the arm and study her
countenance, while she fondled the hand that he had hung over the
back. He was describing the welcome at the station, and all through
the village--the triumphal arches and shouts.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25