Philip seemed more and more to retire within himself, and Wynne
felt that he must do something to attract attention from his friend's
conduct.
"We haven't anything to do with punishment, Mrs. Murphy," he said
soothingly, coming forward as he spoke. "We came only to see if there
is anything we can do to make you more comfortable."
The old woman answered nothing, but she stared at him with wild eyes.
"We may be able to make you more easy," he went on cheerfully, "if we
can't fix things for you just as they were at Aunt Hannah's."
He used the name half unconsciously as the result of the suggestion of
old association and half with an impulse to prove the faint possibility
that this might be Norah Dolen. As he spoke Mrs. Murphy raised herself
on one elbow, stretching out a lean hand convulsively toward him.
"Master Maurice!" she cried. "Holy Mother of Heaven, is it yourself?"
He went to her quickly, and took the outstretched hand.
"Yes, Norah. It is I."
She gazed at him a moment with haggard eyes, and then a look of deep
tenderness came into the worn old face.
"Blessed be the saints!" she murmured.
Pages:
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360