CHAPTER LXXII.
In the first week of October we received a joyous telegram from our
father bidding us leave for home as speedily as possible. My brother,
who was returning to Europe by a packet-boat on its way from Panama,
was to disembark at Southampton; we had but just time to reach home if
we wished to be there to welcome him.
We arrived the evening of the third day just in time, for my brother
was expected a few hours later on the night train. I had barely time
to put into his room, in their accustomed places, the various little
trinkets that he had four years previously confided to my care, before
the hour set for our departure to the station to meet him. To me his
return, announced so unexpectedly, did not seem a reality, and I was
so excited that for two nights I scarcely slept at all.
This is why, in spite of my impatience to see my brother, I fell
asleep at the station; when he appeared it seemed a sort of dream to
me. I embraced him timidly, for he was very different from my mental
image of him. He was bronzed and bearded, his manner of speech was
more rapid, and, with a slightly smiling, slightly anxious expression,
he regarded me fixedly, as if to ascertain what the years had done for
me, and to deduce from that what my future was to be.
When I returned home I fell asleep standing; it wad the dead
sleepiness of a child fatigued by a long journey, against which it is
futile to struggle, and I was carried to my bed.
