“Halbert!”
The human part of Mr. Melville’s nature melts for the moment, the surprise is pleasurable; but he soon grows stern again.
“Where have you been, sir? what have you been doing? and why have you never written to your sister?”
Halbert’s trial has taught him meekness, and his answers are in words which turn away wrath, and his father turns round to seek his easy-chair on the most sheltered and cosiest side of the glowing fire.
“Humph!” he says; “well, since you are home, I suppose it’s no use making any more enquiries now, but what do you intend to do?”
Halbert looks astonished; it is a question he is not prepared to answer; he feels that he ought not and cannot ask his father to enable him to carry out the plan he has been dreaming of for the past twelve months, and he is silent.
“There is plenty of time for answering that, father,” said Christian briskly; “we can consult about that afterwards, when we have all recovered ourselves a little from this surprise which Halbert has given us; and here comes Robert.”
Robert came merrily into the room as Christian spoke, and not alone, he had a companion with him whom he brought forward to introduce to Christian, when his eye caught his brother. What! are we going to have old Ailie’s extravagances over again. Poor Robert’s laugh is hysterical as he tumbles over half a dozen chairs, and lays hold of Halbert, and his shout electrifies the whole household, wakening poor sleeping Mary in her lonely chamber. “Halbert! Halbert”—Robert is a fine fellow for all his thoughtlessness, and is almost weeping over his recovered brother, and Halbert’s newly acquired composure has forsaken him again, and he sobs and grasps Robert’s hands, and thanks God in his heart. This is truly a prodigal’s welcome, which Halbert feels he deserves not.
Robert’s companion hangs back bashfully, unwilling to break in upon, lest he mar this scene of heartfelt family joy, which a good brother like himself fully appreciates; but Christian’s kind and watchful eye is upon him, and has marked him, and she comes forward to relieve him from the awkward position in which he is placed, Marked him! yes, but what a startled agitated look it is with which she regards him, and seems to peruse every lineament of his countenance with eager earnestness. What can it be that comes thus in the way of Christian’s considerate courtesy, and makes her retire again and gaze and wonder? What a resemblance! and Christian’s heart beats quick. But Robert has at length recollected himself, and now brings the young man forward and introduces him as his friend Charles Hamilton. Christian returns his greeting, but starts again and exchanges a hurried glance with Halbert, who also looks wonderingly on the stranger. Christian soon leaves the room, she has Mary to seek after, and attend to; but as she passes Halbert’s chair, she bends over it and whispers in his ear, and her voice trembles the while,—
“Is not the resemblance most striking—and the name?”