For he saw—and the bitter memories of bygone years fled before the vision as the night retreats before the dawn—he saw a smile upon his mother’s face, the smile he had not seen for years; unforgotten, for it had mingled with his dreams—but it had vanished from her eyes when those eyes had looked their last upon her children’s faces. Yes, it was in her eyes—brightness he had often seen before on cheek and lip, merriment even—but this was the heart’s loving laughter breaking through the soul’s clear window as it had been wont to do before that window had been veiled in gloom.
He remembered afterwards, what he did not then remark, that the doctor, observing his rapt expression, came close with some whispered explanation—some discourse on the relaxation of the optic nerve as a result of physical collapse—something of that sort, and much more, did the good man stammer forth to eke out this miracle of God. But Harvey heard him not—nor saw him even—for the love-light in his mother’s eyes called him with imperious voice, and almost roughly did he snatch himself from Jessie’s grasp as he pressed forward with outstretched hands. He moved around the foot of the bed, his hands still extended; and as he did so he noticed, with wild surging joy, that the devouring eyes followed him as he went. The sensation, new, elemental, overpowering, almost overcame him; something of the sense of repossession of a long absent soul, or the kindling of a long extinguished fire, or the cessation of a long tormenting pain, laid hold upon his heart. As he drew near and bent low above the bed, his mother’s face was almost as a holy thing, so transfigured was it with its glow of love. The rapture in her eyes was such as conquerors know—for it was the moment of her triumph after the long battle with the years. And her lips moved as if they longed to chant the victor’s song; yet they were muffled soon—for the hands she laid upon the bended shoulders of her boy were hungry hands, and that strange strength so often vouchsafed the dying was loaned her as she drew the manly form, all quivering and broken now, close to her throbbing bosom. A moment only—for the yearning eyes would not be long denied—till she gently released the hidden face, holding him forth before her while the long thirsting orbs drank deep of holy gladness.