t. She lay
awake the long night through."

Then Jeff was cautiously admitted.

Child as he was, he staggered a little at the aspect of the white still
form extended on a berth. He drew his breath quickly for a few seconds
as his eyes rested on the dear familiar face--familiar, and yet how
altered!

The fine oval face had indeed fallen away sadly, and the soft golden
hair waved away from a brow like marble. Deep dark lines beneath the
closed eyes hollowed the cheeks and seemed to speak of pain and
sleepless nights. Slow tears welled up to Jeff's eyes and fell
silently one by one.

He turned to the woman and spoke in a whisper:

"She has been very ill? She never told me."

"Very ill," said the elderly matron curtly. It was difficult to
restrain her own tears.

Then Jeff sat down quietly and remained half-hidden by the curtain that
sheltered the sleeper. Presently the noise of trampling overhead
seemed to rouse the invalid. She stirred and sighed without opening
her eyes.

"Mrs. Parsons, will you ask if any letters or telegrams have come for
me. I shall never get ashore without my friends. _Surely_ someone
will come." Again a long-drawn sigh.

Jeff's little brown hand stole round the curtain and very softly
clasped the thin white fingers.

"Mother, _I_ am here--your own little lad. Mother, oh, mother! Mother
dear--"

The soft brown eyes opened with a startled look. Then suddenly the
intensity of yearning mother-love met Jeff's gaze. In a moment he was
on his knees beside her with his arms about her neck.

"Never, never to leave you any more, mother--to feel your hands--to
kiss your cheek every night--to nurse you--to make you well--to cover
you with love. Oh, how _could_ I ever bear it all! There is none like
you--none--none."

The sweet pale face flushed in an ecstasy of gratitude and passionate
feeling beneath the endearing epithets and the loving touches.

"My lad--my little lad," she kept repeating to herself in a low murmur,
"he has come to meet me, to make me well."

In the few moments that succeeded, Jeff poured forth the tale of his
adventurous flight from Loch Lossie. He made haste to soften the
neglect of his mother's relatives.

"They did not know you were very ill, mother. They only thought you
were a little bit ill before you left India. Aunt Annie said your maid
would bring you down to Scotland quite well; but oh, I had the ache in
my heart. It was a real pain, and