The House Behind the Cedars | Page 8

feet, held a collection of
curiously shaped sea-shells. There was a great haircloth sofa, somewhat
the worse for wear, and a well-filled bookcase. The screen standing
before the fireplace was covered with Confederate bank-notes of
various denominations and designs, in which the heads of Jefferson
Davis and other Confederate leaders were conspicuous.
"Imperious Caesar, dead, and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep
the wind away,"
murmured the young man, as his eye fell upon this specimen of
decorative art.
The woman showed her visitor to a seat. She then sat down facing him
and looked at him closely. "When did you last see my son?" she asked.
"I've never met your son," he replied.
Her face fell. "Then the message comes through you from somebody
else?"
"No, directly from your son."
She scanned his face with a puzzled look. This bearded young
gentleman, who spoke so politely and was dressed so well, surely--no,
it could not be! and yet--
Warwick was smiling at her through a mist of tears. An electric spark

of sympathy flashed between them. They rose as if moved by one
impulse, and were clasped in each other's arms.
"John, my John! It IS John!"
"Mother--my dear old mother!"
"I didn't think," she sobbed, "that I'd ever see you again."
He smoothed her hair and kissed her. "And are you glad to see me,
mother?"
"Am I glad to see you? It's like the dead comin' to life. I thought I'd lost
you forever, John, my son, my darlin' boy!" she answered, hugging him
strenuously.
"I couldn't live without seeing you, mother," he said. He meant it, too,
or thought he did, although he had not seen her for ten years.
"You've grown so tall, John, and are such a fine gentleman! And you
ARE a gentleman now, John, ain't you--sure enough? Nobody knows
the old story?"
"Well, mother, I've taken a man's chance in life, and have tried to make
the most of it; and I haven't felt under any obligation to spoil it by
raking up old stories that are best forgotten. There are the dear old
books: have they been read since I went away?"
"No, honey, there's be'n nobody to read 'em, excep' Rena, an' she don't
take to books quite like you did. But I've kep' 'em dusted clean, an' kep'
the moths an' the bugs out; for I hoped you'd come back some day, an'
knowed you'd like to find 'em all in their places, jus' like you left 'em."
"That's mighty nice of you, mother. You could have done no more if
you had loved them for themselves. But where is Rena? I saw her on
the street to-day, but she didn't know me from Adam; nor did I guess it
was she until she opened the gate and came into the yard."
"I've be'n so glad to see you that I'd fergot about her," answered the

mother. "Rena, oh, Rena!"
The girl was not far away; she had been standing in the next room,
listening intently to every word of the conversation, and only kept from
coming in by a certain constraint that made a brother whom she had not
met for so many years seem almost as much a stranger as if he had not
been connected with her by any tie.
"Yes, mamma," she answered, coming forward.
"Rena, child, here's yo'r brother John, who's come back to see us. Tell
'im howdy."
As she came forward, Warwick rose, put his arm around her waist,
drew her toward him, and kissed her affectionately, to her evident
embarrassment. She was a tall girl, but he towered above her in quite a
protecting fashion; and she thought with a thrill how fine it would be to
have such a brother as this in the town all the time. How proud she
would be, if she could but walk up the street with such a brother by her
side! She could then hold up her head before all the world, oblivious to
the glance of pity or contempt. She felt a very pronounced respect for
this tall gentleman who held her blushing face between his hands and
looked steadily into her eyes.
"You're the little sister I used to read stories to, and whom I promised
to come and see some day. Do you remember how you cried when I
went away?"
"It seems but yesterday," she answered. "I've still got the dime you
gave me."
He kissed her again, and then drew her down beside him on the sofa,
where he sat enthroned between the two loving and excited women. No
king could have received more sincere or delighted homage. He was a
man, come into a household of women,--a man of whom they were
proud, and to whom