Julian had much improved in appearance since we first made his acquaintance. It does not take long to restore strength and bloom into a boy of sixteen. He was slender still, but the hue of health mantled his cheeks; he was no longer sad, but hopeful, and in his delicate and refined features his father could see a strong resemblance to the wife he had lost.
“Julian!” said Robert Coverdale, “that’s your father who is coming. Let him see that you are glad to meet him.
“Mr. Huet,” he said, “this is your son.”
“You do not need to tell me. He is too like his mother. Julian, my boy, Heaven be praised that has restored you to me!”
It is hardly to be expected that Julian should feel the rapture that swelled the father’s heart, for the thought of having a father at all was still new and strange, but it was not long before he learned to love him.
The poor boy had received so little kindness that his father’s warm affection touched his heart, and he felt glad and happy to have such a protector.
“God bless and reward you, Robert!” said Mr. Huet, taking the hand of our hero. “You shall find that I am not ungrateful for this great service. I want to talk to my boy alone for a time, but I will come to your aunt’s house to supper with Julian. Please tell her so, and ask her to let it be a good one.”
“I will, Mr. Huet.”
From Julian his father drew the story of his years of hardship and ill treatment, and his heart was stirred with indignation as he thought of the cruelty of the relative who had subjected him and his son to that long period of grief and suffering.
“Your trials are over now, Julian,” he said. “You will be content to live with me, will you not?”