'Here—in his own arms—upon his own breast you shall hide it,' said Mr. Tyrold, returning to the bed-side, 'and all now shall be forgotten, but thankfulness that our afflictions seem finding their period.'
'O my Father! my Father!' cried Camilla, forgetting her situation, in her desire to throw herself at his feet, 'can you speak to me thus, after the woe—the disgrace I have brought upon you?—I deserve your malediction!... I expected to be shut out from your heart,—I thought myself abandoned—I looked forward only in death to receiving your forgiveness!—'
Mrs. Tyrold held her still, while her Father now blessed and embraced her, each uttering, in the same moment, whatever was softest to console her: but all her quick feelings were re-awakened beyond their power to appease them; her penitence tortured, her very gratitude tore her to pieces: 'O my Mother,' she cried, 'how do you forbear to spurn me? Can you think of what is passed, and still pronounce your pardon? Will you not draw it back at the sight of my injured Father? Are you not tempted to think I deserve eternal banishment from you both?—and to repent that you have not ordered it?'
'No, my dearest Child, no! I lament only that I took you not at once to your proper security—to these arms, my Camilla, that now so fondly infold you! to this bosom—my darling girl!—where my heart beats your welcome!'
'You make me too—too happy! the change is almost killing! my Mother—my dearest Mother!—I did not think you would permit me to ever call you so again! My Father I knew would pardon me, for the chief suffering was his own; but even he, I never expected could look at me thus benignly again! and hardly—hardly would he have been tried, if the evil had been reversed!'
Mr. Tyrold exhorted her to silent composure; but finding her agitation over-power even her own efforts, he summoned her to join him in solemn thanks for her restoration.
Awfully, though most gratefully, impressed by such a call, she checked her emotion, and devoutly obeyed: and the short but pious ceremony quieted her nerves, and calmed her mind.
The gentlest tranquillity then took place in her breast, of the tumultuous joy which had first chaced her deadly affliction. The soothing, however serious turn, given by devotion to her changed sensations, softened the acute excess of rapture which mounted felicity nearly to agony. More eloquent, as well as safer than any speech, was the pause of deep gratitude, the silence of humble praise, which ensued. Camilla, in each hand held one of each beloved Parent; alternately she pressed them with grateful reverence to her lips, alternately her eye sought each revered countenance, and received, in the beaming fondness they emitted, a benediction that was balm to every woe.