"Gracious alive! what's comin' to pass?—Good! good! good! if it's Clintie—but, O, I fear now, that Tillson's in fault—I fear!" exclaimed Mrs. Troffater, seeming to be shocked with some new suspicion of her husband.
"Bring water! bring water! Mrs. Fabens is faint!" cried Mrs. Teezle, and Mrs. Troffater brought water, and her mind and strength were restored, while she exclaimed, "too good! too good, I fear! too good to be true!" and "just right! just right in the nick o' time!" replied Uncle Walter.
Others attempted to edge in their hand and word of joy, who were crowded back by those before them. It was no dream. It was their own worshipped Clinton in their arms. And it remains only for the present to relate, that the marriage ceremony, though delayed longer than any one was aware, till Father Lovelight at last gave the hour, was still performed, and rare and high was the joy that made Uncle Walter forget his story, and Mrs. Flaxman her song; and was carried on by that glorious company full to the very midnight.
Tilly Troffater had bitterly repented the crime of the boy's abduction, to which he was accessary, and he received not a moment's respite from the tortures of hell, that tore his anguished heart, till he heard where Clinton remained; went, and informed him of his parents, and home, and directed his steps to that door. But the young man's story is reserved for another volume, on another labor of life.