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Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic), 1867-1940

"Michael"


"Have you been sitting here all the time while I slept, dear?" she
asked. "Have you been waiting for me to come back to you?"
"Yes, and you have come," he said.
She looked at him, and the mother-love, which before had been veiled and
clouded, came out with all the tender radiance of evening sun, with the
clear shining after rain.
"I knew you wouldn't fail me, my darling," she said. "You were so
patient with me in the trouble I have been through. It was a nightmare,
but it has gone."
Michael bent forward and kissed her.
"Yes, mother," he said, "it has all gone."
She was silent a moment.
"Is your father here?" she said.
"No; but he will come at once, if you would like to see him."
"Yes, send for him, dear, if it would not vex him to come," she said;
"or get somebody else to send; I don't want you to leave me."
"I'm not going to," said he.
The nurse went to the door, gave some message, and presently returned to
the other side of the bed. Then Lady Ashbridge spoke again.
"Is this death?" she asked.
Michael raised his eyes to the figure standing by the bed. She nodded to
him.
He bent forward again.
"Yes, dear mother," he said.
For a moment her eyes dilated, then grew quiet again, and the smile
returned to her mouth.


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