Caleb wondered what she meant, for he saw that she was speaking to him as much as to his daughter. He saw with astonishment, that she was fluttered and distressed, and could scarcely breathe, as she held to a chair to save herself from falling.
“They are wheels indeed!” she panted. “Coming nearer! Nearer! Very close! 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!——”
She uttered a cry of delight; and running up to Caleb, put her hands over his eyes, as a young man rushed into the room, and flinging his hat into the air, came sweeping down upon them.
“Is it over?” cried Dot.
“Yes!”
“Happily over?”
“Yes!”
“Do you know the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever hear one like it before?” cried Dot.
“If my boy who went to South America had not died—if he were alive—” said Caleb, trembling.
“He is alive!” shrieked Dot, taking her hands from his eyes, and clapping them in ecstasy. “Look at him! See, here he stands before you, healthy and strong! Your own dear son. Your own dear living brother, Bertha!”