She thanked him, and took it, adjusted the lenses to her sight, and held the instrument up to her eyes.
A cry of joy had nearly broken from her lips. She saw her father standing on the deck of the coming tender, looking well and happy. He, too, had a glass, and was using it. She saw that he had seen her; he took off his hat and waved it to her. She waved her hands.
The tender was drawing very near, and now came a general waving of handkerchiefs in salutation from the passengers on both steamers.
In another minute the tender was alongside, the gangplank thrown down, and the rush of friends to meet each other made a joyous confusion.
Jennie found herself in her father’s arms, scarcely knowing how she got there in such a crowd and confusion.
“My daughter! my daughter! welcome! welcome! welcome! welcome to my heart!” the father cried, in a breaking, choking voice, as he pressed her fondly to his breast.
“My own beloved father! Oh, thank the Lord—thank the Lord, that I see you again! And my mother!—my darling mother!—how is she?” cried Jennie, sobbing for joy.
“Well, my dearest, well, thank Heaven! Sends fondest love to you, my child, and waits your return with a joyful heart.”
“Oh! how have I deserved this love and tenderness, this divine compassion and forgiveness? Oh! my father, I ought to fall—not on your neck—but at your feet, and say—what I feel! what I feel!—‘Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy child.’”
“Hush! my darling, hush! We will talk later. Let us go away from here as soon as possible. Where is your babe, Jennie?”