"Isn't he a beauty?" she asked, pressing her lips upon the wrinkled
forehead. "A boy, too, and looks so much like Charlie, but--" and her
soft, blue eyes seemed more beautiful than ever with the maternal
love-shining for them, "I shall not call him Charlie, nor yet John,
though mother's heart is set on the latter name. I can't. I loved my
brother dearly, and never so much as now that he is dead, but my baby
boy must not bear his name, and so I have chosen Hugh, Hugh Richards. I
know it will please you both," and she glanced archly at Alice, who
blushingly kissed the little boy who was to bear the name dearest to her
of all others.
Hugh--they talked of him a while, and then Anna spoke of Irving Stanley,
expressing her fears that she could not see him to thank him for his
kindness and forbearance to her erring brother.
"He must be noble and good," she said, then turning to Adah, she
continued: "You were with him a year. You must know him well. Do you
like him?"
"Yes," and Adah's face was all ablaze, as the simple answer dropped from
her lips.
For a moment Anna regarded her intently, then her eyes were withdrawn
and her white hand beat the counterpane softly, but nothing more was
said of Irving Stanley then.
The next day near the sunsetting, they buried the dead soldier, Mrs.
Richards and Adah standing side by side as the body was lowered to its
last resting place, the older leaning upon the younger for support, and
feeling as she went back to her lonely home and heard the merry laugh of
little Willie in the hall that she was glad her son had married the
young girl, who, now that John was gone forever from her sight began to
be very dear to her as his wife, the Lily whom he had loved so much. In
the dusky twilight of that night when alone with Adah she told her as
much, speaking sadly of the past, which she regretted, and wishing she
had never objected to receiving the girl about whom John wrote so
lovingly.
"Had I done differently he might have been living now, and you might
have been spared much pain, but you'll forgive me. I'm an old woman, I
am breaking fast, and soon shall follow my boy, but while I live I wish
for peace, and you must love me, Lily, because I was his mother. Let me
call you Lily, as he did," and the hand of her who had conceded so much
rested entreatingly upon the bowed head of the young girl beside her.
There was no acting there, Adah knew, and clasping the trembling hand
she involuntarily whispered: "I will love you, mother, I will."