Worthy of his Name by Eglanton Thorne

GUS was too weak, and suffering too much pain in his broken limb, to think long of the words that had passed between him and Mr. Mouncey. When the pain and weariness became more than he could bear, the medical man would give him a strong sedative, under the influence of which he would sleep for hours. But for the relief thus gained, he could hardly have borne the strain of constant pain.

One afternoon, after sleeping for several hours, he woke to find a lady seated by his side. She was not young; her form was full and matronly, and her countenance was a pleasant one to look upon. She was knitting, and her expression was rather sad; but when she looked up and met Gus' gaze she smiled brightly on him. Her sweet smile and the look of her blue eyes seemed familiar to Gus; yet he felt sure he had not seen her before.

"So you are awake at last," she said, bending over him, and laying her hand tenderly on his curly hair; "and how do you feel now, Gus?"

There was a strange thrill in her voice, as of feeling resolutely restrained.

"Better," he replied, smiling back at her; "much better."

"That is right," she said brightly. "And now for the beef-tea. I must not forget nurse's instructions. Please do not begin to talk till you have had some beef-tea."

She turned quickly to the fireplace, where, keeping warm on the hob, was the beef-tea.

Gus was not particularly fond of this strengthening beverage; but somehow it looked more inviting than usual as the lady poured it out, and brought it to him on a little tray, with some tiny chips of toast daintily arranged on a plate.

"Has nurse gone away? " he asked, when he had emptied the cup.

"Yes, she was called to another, a more urgent case, and we felt obliged to let her go. I am here to take care of you, if you will let me."

"You are very kind," said Gus, regarding her with some wonder. "Are you a nurse, then?"

"Not professionally; but I have had much experience of nursing," replied the lady gently. "I believe I can take proper care of you."

"Oh, I am sure of that," said Gus quickly. "Will you tell me what your name is, please?"

"My name is Durrant," she replied; "I am Edith's mother."

"Miss Edith's mother! " said Gus looking very pleased. "Ah, to be sure! I remember hearing that you had come home from India."

"That was some time ago," said Mrs. Durrant. "Gus, will you be very much surprised if I tell you that I am not only Edith's mother, but also your aunt?"

"My aunt! " repeated Gus, in astonishment. "But how can that be? I have not an aunt."

"You did not know that you had one," said Mrs. Durrant, trying to smile, but with tears rising in her eyes. "Gus, from what Mr. Mouncey has told me, and from seeing that Bible, which I recognise as one which formerly belonged to my mother, I am convinced that your father was my only brother-the brother left so early to my care, and dearer to me than words can tell; but who-alas! -wandered into evil ways, and was lost to us whilst yet he lived."

Here, in spite of every effort to control herself, she broke down and sobbed. Gus began to sob too, for he was still very weak. Seeing his emotion, Mrs. Durrant tried hard to check her own.

"Gus," she asked presently, "did your father never speak to you about his sister Edith?"