He is coming,
Cecile; he is not far away at this very moment, and before the evening
is over he will be with us."
Tears filled Cecile's eyes but she rose quietly and said, trying to
speak lightly:
"The night mist is rising from the river, mother dear. Had we not better
turn our faces toward the east and home?"
"You are right, child, it will be as well for us to go home a little
early to-night. I am feeling unaccountably weary though very, very
happy. It will be best for me to go home and rest a little before the
evening train arrives bringing my Philippe back to me."
Cecile said nothing, but very gently, very tenderly guided the blind
mother's steps as they wended their way homeward in the sweet summer
twilight.
Half an hour later Cecile paced restlessly up and down the broad veranda
of her home. She had left her mother sleeping on the couch in her pretty
sitting-room upstairs and could now face the problems and difficulties
which confronted her. In her mind she reviewed the years that had come
and gone since that sad night when her dying father had whispered almost
with his last breath:
"Your mother, Cecile; I trust her to you. Take care of her for me when I
am no longer here to watch over her myself. Promise me you will shield
her from every worry, that you will stand between her and all troubles
as I have always done.
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