“Merciful heaven! Eugene Morton!” exclaimed Haverland, starting to his feet.
“It is so!” said the one addressed.
“Have you risen from the dead?”
“I have risen to life, Alf, but have never been with the dead.”
Instead of the weak, squeaking tone which had heretofore characterized his speech, was now a rich, mellow bass, whose tones startled Mary into life again. She raised her head, but he who held her, would not permit her to arise. He pressed her fervently to his bosom. The ecstasy of that moment, only the angels in heaven could fathom.
Haldidge and Graham entered, and the man in his true character, arose to his feet—a tall, dignified, graceful, imposing person.
“Where is Seth?” asked Graham, not noticing the apparent stranger.
“Here is what you have heretofore supposed to be that individual,” laughed the person before him, enjoying greatly their astonishment.
“Seth, truly, but not Seth, either,” exclaimed they both, with astonishment written on their faces.