In this way his progress homeward was not very rapid, and the clock had struck ten long ere they reached the inn, which they found still and dark, save the light which was kept burning in ’Lena’s room.
“That’s her chamber—the young gal’s—where you see the candle,” said Uncle Timothy, as they drew up before the huge walls of the tavern. “I guess you won’t want to disturb her to-night.”
“Certainly not,” answered Mr. Graham, adding, as he felt a twinge of his inveterate habit of secrecy, “If you’d just as lief, you need not speak of me to the young gentleman; I wish to take him by surprise”—meaning Durward.
There was no particular necessity for this caution, for Uncle Timothy was too much absorbed in his loss to think of anything else, and when his wife asked “who it was that he lighted up to bed,” he replied, “A chap that wanted to come out this way, and so rid with me.”
Mr. Graham was very tired, and now scarcely had his head pressed the pillow ere he was asleep, dreaming of ’Lena, whose presence was to shed such a halo of sunlight over his hitherto cheerless home. The ringing of the bell next morning failed to arouse him, but when Mrs. Aldergrass, noticing his absence from the table, inquired for him, Uncle Timothy answered, “Never mind, let him sleep—tuckered out, mebby—and you know we allus have a sixpence more for an extra meal!”
About eight Mr. Graham arose, and after a more than usually careful toilet, he sat down to collect his scattered thoughts, for now that the interview was so near, his ideas seemed suddenly to forsake him. From the window he saw Durward depart for his walk, watching him until he disappeared in the dim shadow of the woods.
“I will wait until his return, and let him tell her,” thought he, but when a half hour or more went by and Durward did not come, he concluded to go down and ask to see her by himself.
In order to do this, it was necessary for him to pass ’Lena’s room, the door of which was ajar. She was awake, and hearing his step, thought it was Mrs. Aldergrass, and called to her. A thrill of exquisite delight ran through his frame at the sound of her voice, and for an instant he debated the propriety of going to her at once. A second call decided him, and in a moment he was at her bedside, clasping her in his arms, and exclaiming, “My precious ’Lena! My daughter! Has nothing ever told you that I am your father, the husband of your angel mother, who lives again in her child—my child—my ’Lena?”
For a moment ’Lena’s brain grew dizzy, and she had well-nigh fainted, when the sound of Mr. Graham’s voice brought her back to consciousness. Pressing his lips to her white brow, he said, “Speak to me my daughter. Say that you receive me as your father for such I am.”
With lightning rapidity ’Lena’s thoughts traversed the past, whose dark mystery was now made plain, and as the thought that it might be so—that it was so—flashed upon her, she clasped her hands together, exclaiming, “My father! Is it true? You are not deceiving me?”