The youth returns not who went forth so joyously . '' And now Ralph Cranfield was at his mother 's gate , in front of the small house where the old lady , with slender but sufficient means , had kept herself comfortable during her son 's long absence . Admitting himself within the enclosure , he leaned against a great old tree , trifling with his own impatience as people often do in those intervals when years are summed into a moment . He took a minute survey of the dwelling -- its windows brightened with the sky-gleam , its doorway with the half of a millstone for a step , and the faintly-traced path waving thence to the gate . He made friends again with his childhood 's friend -- the old tree against which he leaned -- and , glancing his eye down its trunk , beheld something that excited a melancholy smile . It was a half-obliterated inscription -- the Latin word '' Effode '' -- which he remembered to have carved in the bark of the tree with a whole day 's toil when he had first begun to muse about his exalted destiny . It might be accounted a rather singular coincidence that the bark just above the inscription had put forth an excrescence shaped not unlike a hand , with the forefinger pointing obliquely at the word of fate . Such , at least , was its appearance in the dusky light . `` Now , a credulous man , '' said Ralph Cranfield , carelessly , to himself , `` might suppose that the treasure which I have sought round the world lies buried , after all , at the very door of my mother 's dwelling . That would be a jest indeed . '' More he thought not about the matter , for now the door was opened and an elderly woman appeared on the threshold , peering into the dusk to discover who it might be that had intruded on her premises and was standing in the shadow of her tree . It was Ralph Cranfield 's mother . Pass we over their greeting , and leave the one to her joy and the other to his rest -- if quiet rest he found . But when morning broke , he arose with a troubled brow , for his sleep and his wakefulness had alike been full of dreams . All the fervor was rekindled with which he had burned of yore to unravel the threefold mystery of his fate . The crowd of his early visions seemed to have awaited him beneath his mother 's roof and thronged riotously around to welcome his return . In the well-remembered chamber , on the pillow where his infancy had slumbered , he had passed a wilder night than ever in an Arab tent or when he had reposed his head in the ghastly shades of a haunted forest . A shadowy maid had stolen to his bedside and laid her finger on the scintillating heart ; a hand of flame had glowed amid the darkness , pointing downward to a mystery within the earth ; a hoary sage had waved his prophetic wand and beckoned the dreamer onward to a chair of state . The same phantoms , though fainter in the daylight , still flitted about , the cottage and mingled among the crowd of familiar faces that were drawn thither by the news of Ralph Cranfield 's return to bid him welcome for his mother 's sake . There they found him , a tall , dark , stately man of foreign aspect , courteous in demeanor and mild of speech , yet with an abstracted eye which seemed often to snatch a glance at the invisible .
Meantime , the widow XXXXX went bustling about the house full of joy that she again had somebody to love and be careful of , and for whom she might vex and tease herself with the petty troubles of daily life .
Cranfield day daylight excrescence minute morning night phantoms sky-gleam years