"Oh, yes--of course," replied he, as if falling into a new and trivial
idea.
Thus the evening whiled away. The mother and son sat, hand in hand, before
the little glinting blazing parlor fire, with the unlighted candles on the
table behind. Maggie, busy in preparations, passed softly in and out. And
when all was done that could be done before going to Liverpool, where she
hoped to have two days to prepare their outfit more completely, she stole
back to her mother's side. But her thoughts would wander off to Frank,
"working his way south through all the hunting-counties," as he had written
her word. If she had not urged his absence, he would have been here for her
to see his noble face once more; but then, perhaps, she might never have
had the strength to go.
Late, late in the night they separated. Maggie could not rest, and stole
into her mother's room. Mrs. Browne had cried herself to sleep, like a
child. Maggie stood and looked at her face, and then knelt down by the bed
and prayed. When she arose, she saw that her mother was awake, and had been
looking at her.
"Maggie dear! you're a good girl, and I think God will hear your prayer
whatever it was for. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to me to
think you're going with him. It would have broken my heart else. If I've
sometimes not been as kind as I might have been, I ask your forgiveness,
now, my dear; and I bless you and thank you for going out with him; for I'm
sure he's not well and strong, and will need somebody to take care of him.
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