"Thank God!"
He did not speak the words aloud; they were spoken by his grateful heart as he pressed his son to his breast. Then he gently released himself, and gazed with tearful eyes upon the son he had turned from his home.
Kingsley was much altered. His hair was grayer than that of his father; his face was worn and thin; but the tender, whimsical spirit of old dwelt in his eyes.
At the present moment it was only the sympathetic chords in his nature which found expression.
"I knew you would come, father," said Kingsley, and at the tender utterance of the word Mr. Manners's heart was stirred by a new-born joy; "I always said you would come to us one day. And Nansie, too; she never wavered in her belief that we should see you. 'The time will be sure to arrive,' she often said to me, 'when we shall be reunited; and when your dear father comes to us, we have a home for him.' Yes, father, our home is yours. A poor one, but you will not mind that. It needs but little for happiness, and we have been happy, very happy."
"Oh, Kingsley," said Mr. Manners, "can you, can your good wife forgive me?"
"Forgive you, father!" exclaimed Kingsley, in a tone of surprise. "For what? You have done nothing but what you thought was right. Indeed, the fault has been on our side, for not coming to you. It was our duty, and we neglected it. Father, I do not think you know Nansie as well as I should wish."
"I do not," said the humbled man. "Oh, Kingsley, that I should ever have shut you from my heart!"
"I declare," said Kingsley, putting his hand fondly on his father's shoulder, "if any man but you said as much, I should feel inclined to quarrel with him. Shut me from your heart! I am sure you have never done that. I am sure you have thought of us with tenderness, as we have thought of you. Yes, father, in our prayers you have always been remembered. And we were content to wait your will, which was ever wise and strong. Not like mine--but that is my loss. A man cannot help being what he is, and I am afraid that I have been wanting in strength." He passed his hand across his forehead, half sadly, half humorously. "But I am truly thankful that I have had by my side a helpmate who has strewn my life with flowers. Dear Nansie! Ever patient, ever hopeful, with her steadfast eyes fixed upon the light which you have brought to us now! Then, there is our dear daughter, your grandchild, father--ah, what a blessing she is to us! You will love Hester. Beautiful as her mother was--and is, father--with a nature as sweet and gentle, and as trustful and confiding and pure."
A sudden weakness overcame him here, and with a little, pitiful motion of his arms, he sank into a chair.