Part 42 (1/2)

”All you--needed?”

”Yes, mother.”

She did not speak again for a time; then, ”Are you sure you didn't--didn't catch cold coming home?”

”I'm all right, mother.”

”That's good. It's sweet--it's sweet--”

”What is, mother darling?”

”To feel--my hand on your cheek. I--I can feel it.”

But this frightened him horribly--that she seemed so glad she could feel it, like a child proud of some miraculous seeming thing accomplished. It frightened him so that he could not speak, and he feared that she would know how he trembled; but she was unaware, and again was silent. Finally she spoke again:

”I wonder if--if Eugene and Lucy know that we've come--home.”

”I'm sure they do.”

”Has he--asked about me?”

”Yes, he was here.”

”Has he--gone?”

”Yes, mother.”

She sighed faintly. ”I'd like--”

”What, mother?”

”I'd like to have--seen him.” It was just audible, this little regretful murmur. Several minutes pa.s.sed before there was another. ”Just--just once,” she whispered, and then was still.

She seemed to have fallen asleep, and George moved to go, but a faint pressure upon his fingers detained him, and he remained, with her hand still pressed against his cheek. After a while he made sure she was asleep, and moved again, to let the nurse come in, and this time there was no pressure of the fingers to keep him. She was not asleep, but thinking that if he went he might get some rest, and be better prepared for what she knew was coming, she commanded those longing fingers of hers--and let him go.

He found the doctor standing with the nurse in the hall; and, telling them that his mother was drowsing now, George went back to his own room, where he was startled to find his grandfather lying on the bed, and his uncle leaning against the wall. They had gone home two hours before, and he did not know they had returned.

”The doctor thought we'd better come over,” Amberson said, then was silent, and George, shaking violently, sat down on the edge of the bed.

His shaking continued, and from time to time he wiped heavy sweat from his forehead.

The hours pa.s.sed, and sometimes the old man upon the bed would snore a little, stop suddenly, and move as if to rise, but George Amberson would set a hand upon his shoulder, and murmur a rea.s.suring word or two. Now and then, either uncle or nephew would tiptoe into the hall and look toward Isabel's room, then come tiptoeing back, the other watching him haggardly.

Once George gasped defiantly: ”That doctor in New York said she might get better! Don't you know he did? Don't you know he said she might?”

Amberson made no answer.

Dawn had been murking through the smoky windows, growing stronger for half an hour, when both men started violently at a sound in the hall; and the Major sat up on the bed, unchecked. It was the voice of the nurse speaking to f.a.n.n.y Minafer, and the next moment, f.a.n.n.y appeared in the doorway, making contorted efforts to speak.