Master Skylark Part 38

When the children came to the garden-gate in front of Nick's father's house, the red roses still twined in Cicely's hair, Simon Attwood and his wife Margaret were sitting together upon the old oaken settle by the door, looking out into the sunset. And when they saw the children coming, they arose and came through the garden to meet them, Nick's mother with outstretched hands, and her face bright with the glory of the setting sun. And when she came to where he was, the whole of that long, bitter year was nothing any more to Nick.

For then--ah, then--a lad and his mother; a son come home, the wandering ended, and the sorrow done!

She took him to her breast as though he were a baby still; her tears ran down upon his face, yet she was smiling--a smile like which there is no other in all the world: a mother's smile upon her only son, who was astray, but has come home again.

Oh, the love of a lad for his mother, the love of a mother for her son--unchanged, unchanging, for right, for wrong, through grief and shame, in joy, in peace, in absence, in sickness, and in the shadow of death! Oh, mother-love, beyond all understanding, so holy that words but make it common!

"My boy!" was all she said; and then, "My boy--my little boy!"

And after a while, "Mother," said he, and took her face between his strong young hands, and looked into her happy eyes, "mother dear, I ha?

been to London town; I ha' been to the palace, and I ha' seen the Queen; but, mother," he said, with a little tremble in his voice, for all he smiled so bravely, "I ha' never seen the place where I would rather be than just where thou art, mother dear!"

The soft gray twilight gathered in the little garden; far-off voices drifted faintly from the town. The day was done. Cool and still, and filled with gentle peace, the starlit night came down from the dewy hills; and Cicely lay fast asleep in Simon Attwood's arms.