"Yes, dear uncle," answered the young man; "I reached the village by the evening stage, and hurried with all speed to my old forest home."
The hermit lighted a candle and raked open the coals. A bright fire soon burned on the hearth, and by its ruddy blaze the fond uncle marked the changes two years had wrought in the appearance of his nephew. He was taller, and a manly confidence of tone and manner had succeeded the reserve and timidity which characterized his boyhood. The luxuriant masses of soft brown hair were brushed away from the clear, pale brow, and the deep blue eyes glowed in the conscious light of genius and intellectual fervor. The hermit gazed with ardent admiration on the commanding elegance and beauty of the form before him.
"Education and travel have made a wonderful improvement in your appearance, my boy," he remarked at length, his voice trembling with emotion as he spoke. "Still I don't know but I liked you better as the curly-headed boy in morocco cap and little blue frock-coat, that used to come bounding over the forest path, with his satchel in hand; or set here of long winter evenings, reading some treasured volume at my side; or perched within the window nook gazing silently upward at the glistening stars;—for the dreamy boy I could keep near me, but the lofty, ambitious man I cannot hope to prison here in a solitary wilderness,—nor should I indulge in a wish so selfish," he added. "Tell me, Edgar, of your travels, your enjoyments and occupations, since you departed from this lowly roof."
The young man gave a brief rehearsal of the principal events of the past two years. He hesitated somewhat when he came to his meeting and renewal of acquaintance with Florence Howard, recollecting his uncle's former aversion to their intercourse. He might have passed over it in silence, but his delicate sense of honor would not allow him to deceive in the smallest point the heart that loved him so devotedly. The listening man bent earnest, scrutinizing glances on the speaker's face as he proceeded with his tale, and when it was finished, bowed his gray head on his thin hands, as was his wont when engaged in deep thought, and remained silent.
At length a tremendous blast swept through the forest, blew open the door, and scattered the coals from the deep fire-place over the floor of the apartment. The moody man started from his reverie. Edgar secured the door, and, taking a broom composed of small sprigs of hemlock and cedar, brushed the scattered embers into a pile.
"Do you not wish to retire?" asked the hermit, as the young man resumed his seat in the corner.
"As you wish, uncle," returned he; "I do not feel much fatigued."
"Ay, but I think you are so," said the kind-hearted man, regarding attentively his nephew's features. "My joy at beholding you has rendered me forgetful of your physical comforts. Let me get you some refreshment, and then you shall lie down and rest your weary limbs."
The hermit took a small brown earthen jug from a rude shelf over the fire-place, and, pouring a portion of its contents into a bright-faced pewter basin, placed it on a heap of glowing coals. Then going to a cupboard he brought forth a large wooden bowl, filled with a coarse, white substance. When the contents of the basin were warm he placed it on the table, and setting a chair, said, "Come, my boy, and partake of this simple food. 'Tis all I have to offer you; not like the dainty repasts at which you are accustomed to sit in the abodes of wealth and fashion."
Edgar approached and took the proffered seat.