"It will serve as a background to his filial virtues and bring them out in bright and beautiful relief. I admire, I honor him a thousand times more than if he were the heir of an unspotted name, a glorious ancestry. A father's crimes cannot reflect shame on a son so pure and upright. Besides, he bears another name, and the world knows not his clouded lineage."
My heart warmed at her generous praises of Richard, who was every day more and more endeared to my affections. Where was he now? Had he commenced his mission, and gone to the gloomy cell where his father was imprisoned? He did not wish me to accompany him the first time. What a meeting it must be! He had never consciously beheld his father. The father had no knowledge of his deserted son. In the dungeon's gloom, the living grave of hope, joy, and fame, the recognition would take place. With what feelings would the poor, blasted criminal behold the noble boy, on whom he had never bestowed one parental care, coming like an angel, if not to unbar his prison doors, to unlock for him the golden gates of heaven!
I was too weary for my journey, too much exhausted from agitation to wait for Richard's return, but I could not lay my head on the pillow before writing to Mrs. Linwood and Edith, and telling them the tidings I had learned of the beloved exile. And now the first stormy emotions had subsided, gratitude, deep and holy gratitude, triumphed over every other feeling. Far, far away as he was, he was with a friend; he was in all human probability safe, and he could learn in time how deeply he had wronged me.
Often, on bended knees, with weeping eyes and rending sighs had I breathed this prayer,—"Only let him know that I am still worthy of his love, and I am willing to resign it,—let me be justified in his sight, and I am willing to devote my future life to Thee."
The path was opening, the way clearing, and my faith and resignation about to be proved. I recognized the divine arrangement of Providence in the apparently accidental circumstances of my life, and my soul vindicated the justice as well as adored the mercy of the Most High.
A voice seemed whispering in my ear, "O thou afflicted and tossed with tempests! there is a haven where thy weary bark shall find rest. I, who once bore the burden of life, know its sorrows and temptations, its wormwood and its gall. I bore the infirmities of man, that I might pity and forgive; I bore the crown of thorns, that thou mightest wear the roses of Paradise; I drained the dregs of human agony, that thou mightest drink the wine of immortality. Is not my love passing the love of man, and worth the sacrifice of earth's fleeting joys?"
As the heavenly accents seemed to die away, like a strain of sweet, low harmony, came murmuring the holy refrain—
"Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where the infant Redeemer is laid."