When we are waiting for the call to do something--to say something--of cardinal importance; something that will affect the whole of our life, all that remains of it: when we are uncertain what will happen after or before we have said or done that something; then the very air round us is charged with the uncertainty of the time. Even the hall and the staircase of the Hôtel Métropole, when Molly entered that humble guest-house, seemed trembling with anxiety. Her cousin's rooms were laden with anxiety as with electricity. "Come in, Molly," said Alice. "No, I am not any better; I try to rest, but I cannot. I keep saying to myself, 'I shall get my son back; I shall get my son back.' How long shall I have to wait?" "I hope--to-morrow. Dick has prepared a way to tell him." "Will he be ready to go away with his own mother, to America, do you think, Molly dear?" "Perhaps. But you must remember. He has his own friends and his own occupations. And we don't know yet----" "He will be glad--oh, how glad!--to get his true mother back. He's a handsome boy, isn't he, Molly? As tall as his father--Dick isn't nearly so tall--and stout and strong, like my family. He's like Cousin Charles." "Don't tell him so, Alice." "Why not? His face is his father's--and his voice. Oh, Molly! will he come to-morrow?" "Dick was going to send his letter to-morrow." Her heart sank as she thought of the contents of that letter, which would reach its destination, not as a peace-offering or a message of love at all. The poor mother! Would her son fly to her arms on the wings of affection? Their discourse was interrupted or diverted--there was but one topic possible that day--by the arrival of Sir Robert Steele. As a skilful diplomatist, he began with the second of the two mothers where the first ended. That is to say, he sat down beside her, took her hand in his, and held it, talking in a soft, persuasive voice. "We are such old--old friends, dear lady," he began--"friends of four and twenty years--that I have taken a great liberty. That is--I am sure you will forgive me--I have consented to act as ambassador on a delicate mission." "He comes from Lady Woodroffe," thought Molly, "or perhaps from Humphrey." "Yes," the doctor went on, his voice being like the melodious cooing of the stock-dove--"yes. As a friend of the past, I thought you would forgive this interference. Things have changed, with both of us, since that time, have they not? I was then at the bottom of the profession--I am now at the top. I was then a sixpenny doctor--fill your own bottle with physic, you know; with a red lamp, and a dispensary open from six to ten every evening. Now I am what you know. You are a great lady--rich--a leader. I am sure you sometimes think that 'not more than others we deserve'----" "I do, doctor, constantly. But the loss of my boy has poisoned everything. Yet now, I hope----" "Now, I promise and assure you. This day--this evening----" She fell back on her pillow.