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Ah,
well enough, and perhaps bitterly enough, be knew the answer to that question!
"To be kind"--to Georgie!
.
. . A red-cap at the station, when he arrived, leaped for his bag, abandoning
another which the Pullman porter had handed him. "Yessuh, Mist' Morgan.
Yessuh. You' car waitin' front the station fer you, Mist' Morgan, suh!"
And
people in the crowd about the gates turned to stare, as he passed through,
whispering, "That's Morgan."
Outside,
the neat chauffeur stood at the door of the touring-car like a soldier in
whip-cord.
"I'll
not go home now, Harry," said Eugene, when he had got in. "Drive to
the City Hospital."
"Yes,
sir," the man returned. "Miss Lucy's there. She said she expected
you'd come there before you went home."
"She
did?"
"Yes,
sir."
Eugene
stared. "I suppose Mr. Minafer must be pretty bad," he said.
"Yes,
sir. I understand he's liable to get well, though, sir." He moved his
lever into high speed, and the car went through the heavy traffic like some
fast, faithful beast that knew its way about, and knew its master's need of
haste. Eugene did not speak again until they reached the hospital.
Fanny
met him in the upper corridor, and took him to an open door.
He
stopped on the threshold, startled; for, from the waxen face on the pillow,
almost it seemed the eyes of Isabel herself were looking at him: never before
had the resemblance between mother and son been so strong--and Eugene knew that
now he had once seen it thus startlingly, he need divest himself of no
bitterness "to be kind" to Georgie.
George
was startled, too. He lifted a white hand in a queer gesture, half forbidding,
half imploring, and then let his arm fall back upon the coverlet. "You
must have thought my mother wanted you to come," he said, "so that I
could ask you to--to forgive me."
But
Lucy, who sat beside him, lifted ineffable eyes from him to her father, and
shook her head. "No, just to take his hand--gently!"
She
was radiant.
But
for Eugene another radiance filled the room. He knew that he had been true at
last to his true love, and that through him she had brought her boy under
shelter again. Her eyes would look wistful no more.
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