'Yes, Mrs Trevelyan; he is here.'
'How am I ever to thank you for such goodness?' said she. 'And Mr
Trevelyan--you saw him?'
'Yes I saw him.'
Before he could answer her further she was upstairs, and had her child
in her arms. It seemed to be an age since the boy had been stolen from
her in the early spring in that unknown, dingy street near Tottenham
Court Road. Twice she had seen her darling since that, twice during his
captivity; but on each of these occasions she had seen him as one not
belonging to herself, and had seen him under circumstances which had
robbed the greeting of almost all its pleasure. But now he was her own
again, to take whither she would, to dress and to undress, to feed, to
coax, to teach, and to caress. And the child lay up close to her as she
hugged him, putting up his little cheek to her chin, and burying
himself happily in her embrace. He had not much as yet to say, but she
could feel that he was contented.
Mr Glascock had promised to wait for her a few minutes, even at the risk
of Caroline's displeasure, and Mrs Trevelyan ran down to him as soon as
the first craving of her mother's love was satisfied.
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