Witherspoon said nothing, but his wife replied: "It isn't romance
with me; it is an answer to a prayer that my heart has been beating
year after year."

"But don't cry, mother," said Ellen. "Your prayer has been answered."

"Yes, I know that, but look at the long, long years of separation, and
now he comes back to me a stranger."

"But we shall soon be well acquainted," Henry replied, "and after a
while you may forget the long years of separation."

"I hope so, my son, or at least I hope to be able to remember them
without sorrow. But didn't you, at times, fancy that you remembered
me? Couldn't you recall my voice?" Her lips trembled.

"No," he answered, slowly shaking his head. This was the cause for
more tears. She had passed completely out of his life. Ah, the tender,
the hallowed egotism of a mother's love!

The carriage drew up to the sidewalk, and the driver threw open the
door. "I'll be back in just a minute," said Witherspoon, as he got
out; and when he was gone his wife began to apologize for him. "He's
always so busy. I used to think that the time might come when he could
have more leisure, but it hasn't."

"What an immense place!" said Henry, looking out.

"One of the very largest in the world," Ellen replied. "And the