passed, until at last we paused at the gateway of a
cottage on our left. On to the door of that we went,
my friend first violently jerking the bell, then opening
the door with a night-key, and with me lifting
the still senseless woman through the hall into a
dimly lighted room upon the right, and laying her
upon a clean white bed that glimmered in the corner.
He reached and turned the gas on in a flaring jet,
and as he did so, "This is my home," he whispered,
"and this woman is--my mother!" He flung himself
upon his knees beside her as he spoke. He laid
his quivering lips against the white hair and the
ruddy wound upon the brow; then dappled with his
kisses the pale face, and stroked and petted and
caressed the faded hands. "O God!" he moaned, "if
I might only weep!"

The steps of some one coming down the stairs
aroused him. He stepped quickly to the door, and
threw it open. It was a woman servant. He
simply pointed to the form upon the bed.

"Oh, sir!" exclaimed the frightened woman,
"what has happened? What has happened to my
poor dear mistress?"

"Why did you let her leave the house?"

"She sent me away, sir. I never dreamed that
she was going out again. She told me she was very