Presently we came out together from among bushes and rocks to a place I didn't expect. There was an iron railing, and beyond the railing a depth going sheer down ever so far. A river lay below, shining in the moonlight, which at that very moment had broken out strong and clear. Beyond the river were high dark banks, covered with woods. It was a strange wild scene altogether to me, seen in the dim light. Mary went straight to the railing, stepping quick over the roughnesses in our path, though indeed we were in no regular path, but among rocks and bushes and grass; and she stood there looking about. "It is a beautiful place," said she. "I should like it in the day-time," I said. "I like it always," said she. "Is this where mother comes to be alone?" I asked. "Somewhere about here," said she. "Not far off, commonly." And she called in a soft voice, which must have carried a good way, the air was so still— "Mrs. Phrynne! Mrs. Phrynne!" But there wasn't any answer. "Come! we'll look," Mary answered. We kept as near to the railings as could be, but sometimes we had to go round a pile of rocks and bushes. Mary and I searched some distance both ways, and all to no good. There wasn't a sign of a living creature. Once the moon went in, and how dark it was! I felt chilly and frightened. "Perhaps she is gone home, and she'll be tired waiting for us," I said. "I don't think it," Mary answered. We stood still again, listening, and all at once it came into my head to call, "Mother!" "Yes—try that, Kitty!" says Mary. "Mother!" I cried. "Mother! Mother!" There was a step among the bushes near us. "Mother," I cried; "oh, do come!" No mistake about the step now. In one moment more mother herself came out from the bushes, walking straight towards us. The moon shone full on her face, and her eyes were wide open with an eager look. "Is that little Kitty's voice?" says she. "Is Kitty in trouble?" "Mother!" I said once more, and I went forward to meet her, while Mary held back. "Why—Kitty!" says mother, a slow smile creeping over her face, and she put both arms round me. "Kitty!" Anybody that's known what it is to crave and thirst for a mother's kiss, when that kiss can't be had, may guess how I felt to have mother's arms round me, hugging me in the old fashion, like as when I was a little child. She laid her cheek on mine, and made a little crooning sound, as if I was a baby again, and she petting me. "Kitty! Little Kitty!" says she. "Come back to mother at last!" "O mother, I don't want ever to leave you again," I sobbed. "Poor little Kitty!" says she, and she crooned over me afresh. I don't know how long that went on; only after a while I heard Mary say behind, softly, "Now we ought to go home."