"O, father!—mother!—sister!" cried the stranger, as the loving three contended to clasp him closest to each heart.
"Is it my brother, or my mother's dream I hold!—It must, it must be he! O, we will be happy now!" cried Fanny, embracing all of that precious form she could extort from her father and mother.
"I will have at least one hand—my brother's hand!" cried George
Ludlow, grasping his left hand and pressing it warmly.
"It is he!—it is Clinton! I know this face—these eyes! I do not dream! It is not heaven has opened. Clinton's alive, and mother's word fulfilled!" cried Fabens, pressing the stranger closer to his heart.
"Merciful heavens! what can this mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Nimblet.
"It is amazing strange!" replied Mr. Nimblet.
"I'll have one grab at him, any way," cried Uncle Walter, making for the hand, so warmly clasped by George Ludlow.
"So'll I! So'll I, and take pay and interest for my four days' hunt," cried Wilson.
"I loved to kiss him, too; and where is my part?" cried Aunt Huldah, joining in the group.
"And mine!" "and mine!" cried Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Colwell.