"Well, perhaps that's true, childie. He's something good, I hope. Now shut your eyes like a dearie, and Mother will rock and sing."
Mary-Clare fixed her eyes on her child's face, but she was seeing another. The face of a man whose glance had held hers for a strange moment. She had been conscious, since, of this man's presence; his name was familiar--she could not forget him, though there was no reason for her to remember him except that he was new; a something different in her dull days.
But Noreen, eyes obediently closed, was pleading in the strange, foolish jargon of her rare moments of relaxation:
"You lit and lock, Motherly, and I'll luck my lum, just for to-night, and lall aleep."
"All right, beloved; you may, just for to-night, suck the little thumb, and fall asleep while Mother rocks."
After a few moments more Noreen was asleep and Mary-Clare carried her to an inner room and put her on her bed. She paused to look at the small sleeping face; she noted the baby outlines that always were so strongly marked when Noreen was unconscious; it hurt the mother to think how they hardened when the child awakened. The realization of this struck Mary-Clare anew and reinforced her to her purpose, for she knew her hour was at hand.
A week before she had dismantled the room in which she now stood. It had once been Doctor Rivers's chamber; later it had been hers--and Larry's. The old furniture was now in the large upper room, only bare necessities were left here.
Mary-Clare looked about and her face lost its smile; her head lowered--it was not easy, the task she had set for herself, and after Larry's visit to the mines it would be harder. She had hoped to see Larry first, for Maclin had a subtle power over him. Without ever referring to her, and she was sure he did not in an intimate sense, he always put Larry in an antagonistic frame of mind toward her. Well, it was too late now to avert Maclin's influence--she must do the best she could. She went back to the fire and sat down and waited.
It was after ten o'clock when Larry came noisily in. Rivers took his colour from his associates and their attitude toward him. He was a bit hilarious now, for Maclin had been glad to see him; had approved of the results of his mission--though as for that Larry had had little to do, for he had only delivered, to certain men, some private papers and had received others in return; had been conscious that non-essentials had been talked over with him, but as that was part of the business of big inventions, he did not resent it. Maclin had paid him better than he had expected to be paid, shared a good dinner with him and a bottle of wine, and now Rivers felt important and aggressive. Wine's first effect upon him was to make him genial.