"Mother, mother! it's somebody from the sea!" Mrs. Mason dropped both hands in her lap, and gazed breathlessly on the man. Every tint of color left her handsome face; she tried to speak, but could not. The man was so pale and so wild of countenance that she might well have been stricken with deadly fear.
He took a step into the room, but did not speak.
"Nelson Thrasher!" she almost shrieked. "If you are a living soul, speak. Where is my husband?"
The man recoiled a step, and well he might. The question came on him so suddenly, it might have startled the boldest man on earth. It absolutely seemed to terrify him. He stood a moment staring at her, then answered in a low, hoarse voice:
The little girl caught the meaning of his words, rose up and seizing his hand between both her dimpled palms cried out:
"He comes to tell about pa! Oh, please sir, where is he? Why don't he come home?"
Thrasher looked down in her face, and met the glance of those eyes--her father's eyes. He instantly shook her hands off as if they had been vipers, and with a gesture which seemed to cast aside some terrible feeling, threw himself on a chair.
"My husband!" said Mrs. Mason. "Tell me, is he coming?--is he well?"
"Dead! dead!" The poor woman grew faint under the suddenness of this solemn announcement, and dropped helplessly into her chair.
Thrasher sprang up, and stretching out his arms, received her head on his bosom.
Little Rose stood in silent fear, watching them. After a moment she went close to Thrasher, and pulled at his coat.
"Let me hold mother--I don't want you there."
Thrasher pushed her away with one hand. The woman lay as if she were dead against his heart, which beat with iron heaviness, like the trip-hammer of a foundry.
Again the child pulled at his skirts. She was crying now.
"What is dead? I say, man, what is dead? I want to know!"
"See!" answered Thrasher, lifting the woman's white face from his bosom. "See!"
"And is that it?" whispered the child, through her hushed tears. "Mother! mother!"
The shock and suddenness of Thrasher's tidings had overcome Mrs. Mason, but she was not entirely unconscious. When the child called out in her sweet, pathetic voice, she staggered from Thrasher's hold, and falling back into her chair, held out both arms for Rose. The little thing sprang to her lap with a cry of joy, and instantly covered the troubled face with kisses.