“With pleasure,” said Mr. Campbell. And he took the letter, and omitting date, read as follows:
“‘My Beloved Mother——’”
“The darling boy!” ejaculated Elspeth in rapture.
“‘I have crossed the sea and come back to England——’”
“He is in England! In England! Oh, thank Heaven! Thank Heaven! Go on, sir! Please go on!” impatiently exclaimed Elspeth.
The curate smiled at her impetuosity and continued:
“‘To see your dear face again, and to beg your forgiveness, which I know you will grant me, though I know I do not deserve it——’”
“Ah, hear the noble fellow! Taking all the blame on himself, though I was more in fault nor him! But go on, sir! Pray go on!”
“‘I long to be with you, to stay with you all the rest of our lives; to work for you, and to try to make you happy and comfortable, and so atone for all the trouble I have caused you——’”
“Oh! the grand son! the noble boy! He will stay with me all the rest of my life! Oh, that will be joyful!” exclaimed Elspeth, clapping her hands and breaking into a camp meeting revival hymn, very appropriate, it is true: