"He has had
a rough bed, mother, if he has spent the night there, as I fear."
Mrs. Trevor had grasped her arm. "What is Flo' doing?" she said,
stopping, as the pretty little spaniel trotted up to the boy's reclining
figure, and began snuffing about it, and then broke into a quick short
bark of pleasure, and fawned and frisked about him, and leapt upon him,
joyously wagging his tail.
The boy rose with the dew wet from the flowers upon his hair; he saw the
dog, and at once began playfully to fondle it, and hold its little
silken head between his hands; but as yet he had not caught sight of
the Trevors.
"It is--oh, good heavens! it is Eric," cried Mrs. Trevor, as she flew
towards him. Another moment and he was in her arms, silent, speechless,
with long arrears of pent-up emotion.
"O my Eric, our poor, lost, wandering Eric--come home; you are forgiven,
more than forgiven, my own darling boy. Yes, I knew that my prayers
would be answered; this is as though we received you from the dead." And
the noble lady wept upon his neck, and Eric, his heart shaken with
accumulated feelings, clung to her and wept.
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