ed it. And I remember feeling astonishment that she did not show
surprise or alarm.
"What are you doing here, Mr. Temple?" she said.
"My mother, Madame! My mother! I must go to her."
He pushed past her into the bedroom, and I followed perforce. I shall
never forget the scene, though I had but the one glimpse of it,--the
raving, yellowed woman in the bed, not a spectre nor yet even a semblance
of the beauty of Temple Bow. But she was his mother, upon whom God had
brought such a retribution as He alone can bestow. Lindy, faithful
servant to the end, held the wasted hands of her mistress against the
violence they would have done. Lindy held them, her own body rocking
with grief, her lips murmuring endearments, prayers, supplications.
"Miss Sally, honey, doan you know Lindy? Gawd'll let you git well, Miss
Sally, Gawd'll let you git well, honey, ter see Marse Nick--ter
see--Marse--Nick--"
The words died on Lindy's lips, the ravings of the frenzied woman ceased.
The yellowed hands fell limply to the sheet, the shrunken form stiffened.
The eyes of the mother looked upon the son, and in them at first was the
terror of one who sees the infinite. Then they softened until they
became again the only feature that was left of Sarah Temple. Now, as she
looked at him who was her pride, her honor, for one sight of whom she had
prayed,--ay, and even blasphemed,--her eyes were all tenderness. Then
she spoke.
"Harry," she said softly, "be good to me, dear. You are all I have now."
She spoke of Harry Riddle!
But the long years of penance had not been in vain. Nick had forgiven
her. We saw him kneeling at the bedside, we saw him with her hand in
his, and Helene was drawing me gently out of the room and closing the
door behind her. She did not look at me, nor I at her.
We stood for a moment close together, and suddenly the cries in the
street brought us back from the drama in the low-ceiled, reeking room we
had left.
"Ici! Ici! Voici le cheval!"
There was a loud rapping at the outer door, and a voice demanding
admittance in Spanish in the name of his Excellency the Governor.
"Open it," said Helene. There was neither excitement in her voice, nor
yet resignation. In those two words was told the philosophy of her life.
I opened the door. There, on the step, was an officer, perspiring,
uniformed and plumed, and behind him a crowd of eager faces, white and
black, that seemed to fill the street. He took a step into the r
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