Three Weeks

Written on the paper underneath were the words: "Beloved, he is so strong and fair, thy son, born the 19th of February."

For a moment Paul closed his eyes, and as once before a choir of seraphims were singing in his ears.

Then he looked at this minute lock again, and touched it with his forefinger. The strangest emotion he had ever known quivered through his being--the concentrated sensation of what he used to feel when his lady had spoken of their hope--a weird, tremulous, physical thrill. The dear small curl of hair! The actual, tangible proof of his own living son. He lifted it with the greatest reverence to his lips, and a mist of joy swam in his blue eyes. Ah! it was all too wonderful--too divine the thought! The essence of their great love--this child of his and hers. His and hers! Yes, their hope had not deceived them. It was true! It was true!

Then his mind rose in passionate worship of his lady. His goddess and Queen--the mainspring of his watch of life--the supreme and absolute mistress of his heart and soul. Never had he more madly desired and loved her than this day. He kissed and kissed her words in deep devotion.

But how and where was she?--was she well?--was she ill? Had she been suffering? Oh! that he could fly to her. More than ever the terrible gall of their separation came to him. It was his right, by every law of nature, to now be by her side.

But she was well--she must be well, or she would have said, and surely he soon would see her.

It was like a voice from heaven, her little written words, bridging the impossible--drawing him back to the knowledge and certainty that she was there, for him to love, and one day to go to. Fate could never be so unjust as to part him from--the mother of his child.

And then a state of mad ecstasy came over Paul with that vision; he could not stay in the house; he must go out under God's sky, and let his soul-thoughts fly into space. Dazzling pictures came to him; surely the spring was in his heart breaking through the frozen ground like a single golden crocus he saw at his feet--surely, surely the sun of life would shine again, and living he should see her.

He strode away, Pike gambolling beside him, and racing ahead and back again, seeming to understand and participate in his master's inward joy.

Paul hardly noticed where he went, his thoughts exalting him so that he did not even heed to choose his favourite haunt, the wood against the sky-line. It was as if great blocks of icy fear and anguish were melting in the warmth. Hope and glory shone on his path, almost blinding him.