sympathetic, hurrying behind, Malcom was brought home through the
wonderful sunset glow upon which not one bestowed a single thought.




Chapter VII.

A Startling Disclosure.

'_Tis even thus:
In that I live I love; because I love
I live: Whate'er is fountain to the one
Is fountain to the other._

--TENNYSON.

[Illustration: CLOISTER, MUSEUM OF SAN MARCO, FLORENCE.]


Many days of great distress followed. Everything else was forgotten in
the tense waiting. There were moments of half consciousness when
Malcom's only words were "All right, mother." It seemed as if even in
that second of plunging to save the child he yet thought of his mother,
and realized how she would feel his danger. But happily, as time wore
on, the jarred brain recovered from the severe shock it had received,
and gradually smiles took the place of anxious, questioning looks, and
merry voices were again heard, and the busy household life was resumed.

Although Malcom could not accompany them, the proposed visit to the old