Gently rubbing her head against his penitent knee, she awakens the
absorbed poet to a realization of her presence, and to a feeling of
pleasure that he is not deserted by all, but has one heart left that
beats for him alone.
Fondly taking his feline friend in his arms, he softly strokes her back,
and gazes lovingly into the soft green eyes that look responsively into
his, and rebukes her not when, in impulsive love, she rubs her cold nose
against his burning cheek, and wipes her eyes upon his frail moustache.
Night draws on apace. The dew begins to fall; the pangs of hunger to
manifest themselves; and hesitatingly and timidly he and his cat turn
their footsteps homeward. Loiter as he will, each moment brings him
nearer to that abode where once he thought himself master; but to his
astonishment he now finds himself an outcast and a reproach.
Slowly and quietly he creeps around to the back kitchen door, his cat
held tightly in his arms, stealthily enters, and meekly drops into a
chair, the image of a self-convicted burglar.
Presently he hears a sound of smothered laughter, a quick, light step,
and mother-in-law and nurse enter, full of importance, and unnaturally
friendly with each other.
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