We now return to our two fugitives. They met with no other adventure, and arrived that evening at Dr. Arrington’s residence. The old gentleman would have gone into Washington himself when Mildred was arrested, but Ernest persuaded him to remain at home with his family, promising to promptly inform him if his presence should become necessary.
It is impossible to portray the scene which occurred when the two rode up and alighted. Mrs. Arrington, who had been almost brokenhearted, could not control her feelings in the transition from despair to joy. This arrival was like the coming back of the dead. The good lady must cry aloud. The Doctor was more calm, but the tears gently coursed down his cheek in gratitude to God for the restoration of his child. It was an hour or more before the family equilibrium approximated its normal condition sufficiently to admit of tranquil conversation. After a while the Doctor said:
“We must now have a special service—a service of gratitude, for I feel that my many earnest prayers have been answered.”
The family assembled in the parlor, and the Doctor selected some portions of Scripture suitable to the occasion, and all humbly and reverently bowed upon their knees. Such an out-pouring of thanksgiving never before was witnessed around that altar. This was a family of faith. They regarded God as the source of every blessing. The Doctor had no more doubt that God had restored his child, in answer to prayer, than he had of his own existence. Ernest, however, who loved to hear the old man defend his position, suggested that the same thing might have happened if there had been no prayers in the case.
“I am surprised at you,” answered the Doctor. “I do not know that I ever saw the hand of God more clearly revealed in my affairs.”
“But still,” said Ernest, “does it not all appear natural? Your nephew was in the city, and hearing of his cousin’s imprisonment, what is more natural than that he should restore her to liberty?”
“I remember,” said Mrs. Arrington, “how we were all distressed when we heard that Will had joined the Northern army. Little did we think that Mildred’s life depended upon it. How shortsighted we are!”
“And suppose,” said the Doctor, “that Will had not been in the court-room when the officer made the remark about her trial. You told us of this a while ago. This might have appeared accidental, but still it happened exactly at the right time. Suppose Will had not gone into that room at the moment he did, the trial would have ended the next day, and Mildred in all probability, would have never been sent back to the hotel, but to a dismal felon’s cell to await her execution, and then Will would not have been able to release her.”