His father was not likely to be there.

He would almost certainly be either in Kent, or else abroad; for he still held a command in the army, and the war on the Continent was still raging furiously.

But the mother would be awaiting her son in the house he had written to ask her to secure for him again.

It was within easy reach of the town, and yet it was quiet and secluded, and suited his tastes and habits.
It was almost dark one murky autumn evening when the lumbering coach, which had conveyed the friends the last stages of their journey, drew up at the door of the house.

Lights shone in the windows, and from the open door there streamed out a glowing shaft of yellow light, bespeaking the warm welcome awaiting the tired traveller.
Wolfe had been weary to the verge of exhaustion when they had abandoned the attempt to ride the whole distance, and had secured the heavy coach; but now he seemed to revive to new life, and he sprang from it with some of the activity of youth and strength.
"Mother--there is my mother!" he exclaimed; and Julian saw him take the steps two at a time, to meet the advancing greeting from the mother who had come to welcome home her son.
Mrs.Wolfe was a distinctly beautiful woman, whose beauty had been but little dimmed by time.