This suggestion as soon
as it came to Mrs. Voss settled into a conviction. Her imagination
brooded over the idea and brought the reality before her mind with
such a cruel vividness that she almost saw the tragedy enacted, and
heard again that cry of "Mother!" which had seemed to mingle with
the wild shrieks of the tempest, but which came only to her inner
sense.
She dreamed that night a dream which, though it confirmed all this,
tranquilized and comforted her. In a vision her boy stood by her
bedside and smiled upon her with his old loving smile. He bent over
and kissed her with his wonted tenderness; he laid his hand on her
forehead with a soft pressure, and she felt the touch thrilling to
her heart in sweet and tender impulses.
"It is all well with me," he said; "I shall wait for you, mother."
And then he bent over and kissed her again, the pressure of his lips
bringing an unspeakable joy to her heart. With this joy filling and
pervading it, she awoke. From that hour Mrs. Voss never doubted for
a single moment that her son was dead, nor that he had come to her
in a vision of the night. As a Christian woman with whom faith was
no mere ideal thing or vague uncertainty, she accepted her great
affliction as within the sphere and permission of a good and wise
Providence, and submitted herself to the sad dispensation with a
patience that surprised her friends.
Months passed, and yet the mystery was unsolved.
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