She heard her boy on the other side of the wall
pacing to and fro, and she slipped out of bed, put on her dressing-
gown, and went to listen. Presently she knocked gently.
"George, my dear, aren't you well?"
"Yes, mother; nothing the matter."
"Let me in."
He let her in, and sat down. The moon shone brightly, and there was
no need for any other light.
The mother came and sat beside her child.
"George, my dear, there is something on you mind? What is it?--tell
me."
"Nothing, mother; nothing indeed."
She answered by taking his cold hand in both her own and putting it
on her lap. Presently he disengaged himself and went to the window.
She sat still for a moment, and followed him. She looked up in his
face; the moonlight was full upon it; there was no moisture in his
eyes, but his lips quivered. She led him away, and got him to sit
down again, taking his hand as before, but speaking no word.
Suddenly, without warning, his head was on his mother's bosom, and he
was weeping as if his heart would break. Another first experience to
him and to her; the first time he had ever wept since he was a child
and cried over a fall or because it was dark.
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