To heighten the effect of what was the most dramatic part of the story—the return of the wedding party to the Carrier's house, where Dot, Caleb, and his blind daughter awaited them—Richard paused for a moment as if to rest his voice—the room the while deathly still, the loosening of a pent-up breath now and then showing how tense was the emotion. Then he went on:
“Are those wheels upon the road, Bertha?”, cried Dot. “You've a quick ear, Bertha—And now you hear them stopping at the garden gate! And now you hear a step outside the door—the same step, Bertha, is it not—And now—”
Dot uttered a wild cry of uncontrollable delight, and running up to Caleb put her hand upon his eyes, as a young man rushed into the room, and, flinging away his hat into the air, came sweeping down upon them.
“Is it over?” cried Dot.
“Yes!”
“Happily over?”
“Yes!”
“Do you recollect the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever hear the like of it before?” cried Dot.
“If my boy Edward in the Golden South Americas was alive—” cried Caleb, trembling.
“He is alive!” shrieked Dot, removing her hands from his eyes and clapping them in ecstasy; “look at him! See where he stands before you, healthy and strong! Your own dear son! Your own dear, living, loving brother, Bertha!”