They dashed the hopes of Randolph, Godlike and Yorke to the dust.
"Not dead!" they echoed, in a breath.
"He is not dead. He is living, and in this house. In a moment he will be here,—here, to claim his father's estate."
And in the wildness of his joy, Martin Fulmer hurried to and fro, now wringing his hands, now spreading them forth in thankfulness to heaven.
"I knew," said the old man, standing erect, the light shining full upon his white hairs, "I knew that Providence would not desert me!"
[CHAPTER V.]
THE SON AT LAST.
The curtain moved again, and two persons came slowly into the room; a man whose wounded arm was carried in a sling and whose livid face was marked by recent wounds,—a boy, whose graceful form was enveloped in a closely fitting frock-coat, while his young face was shaded by locks of glossy hair.
"Martin Fulmer! behold the lost child of Gulian Van Huyden!" cried Colonel Tarleton, urging the boy forward.