"That's you," the man said hoarsely; "and that's your mother—baby wasn't born. And I hadn't ever drunk a drop then," he added, a bleating cry mingling with the words.
Harvey stood long, looking down. Once the stranger put out his hand—but he drew back with the picture, gazing still. The tide of battle rose and fell within him. Then his hand shook like an aspen, his whole frame trembled, his sight grew blurred and dim. Yet through the gust of tears he looked again upon the haggard face—and again, more clearly than before, something of Jessie's swam before him. A moment later, and his soul, surging like the ocean in a storm, went out in primal passion to the quivering man; swiftly, overmasteringly, as if forevermore, he took him in his arms.
* * * * * *
"If you'll help me, my son—if you'll help me, I'll try again." The flickering gas jet still gave its light above them and the silent stars still watched the sleeping city. And the son still held his father in the clasp of a long-slumbering, new-awakened love.
"We'll fight it out together—and we'll win," the lips of youth replied. "I know all about it, father—and I'll help all I can. I promised mother—I promised to bring you, father. Mother's waiting; and I said we'd come together—and Jessie, too."
"Will Jessie love me?" the broken voice enquired, the tone plaintive with mingled love and fear.
"She's always loved you, father," and the son's voice was thrilling with compassion. "We're both your children," and it was pitiful to see the strong lips struggling; "we're your children—and we promised mother."
Thus the gentle stream flowed on. And as they talked a new peace flowed into the haunted eyes; and the blessed tidings of those he loved—of her whose sweet face was even now upon its pillow, and of the one who dwelt with God—came with balm and healing to his soul.
"I'll try, Harvey," he said again—"and I'll trust your mother's God."
As Harvey guided him out into the night the quiet stars above him seemed to be the very sentinels of heaven. And he marvelled that this wondrous charge had come to him at last—over all the waste of years; and that the secret plan of the Unseen, its deep design unchanging, had entrusted to his hand the fulfillment of his mother's prayers.