Caleb wondered what she meant, for he saw that she was speaking to him as much as to his daughter. He saw with astonishment, that she was fluttered and distressed, and could scarcely breathe, as she held to a chair to save herself from falling.
“They are wheels indeed!” she panted. “Coming nearer! Nearer! Very close! And now you hear them stopping at the garden gate! And now you hear a step outside the door--the same step, Bertha--is it not?--and now!----”
She uttered a cry of delight; and running up to Caleb, put her hands over his eyes, as a young man rushed into the room, and flinging his hat into the air, came sweeping down upon them.
“Do you know the voice, dear Caleb? Did you ever hear one like it before?” cried Dot.
“If my boy who went to South America had not died--if he were alive--” said Caleb, trembling.
“He is alive!” shrieked Dot, taking her hands from his eyes, and clapping them in ecstasy. “Look at him! See, here he stands before you, healthy and strong! Your own dear son. Your own dear living brother, Bertha!”
She turned to meet the sunburned sailor half way, and let him kiss her heartily.
Just at this moment, the carrier entered. Upon seeing them thus, he started back.
“Look, John!” cried Caleb. “Look here! My own son! Him that you fitted out, and sent away yourself! Him you were always such a friend to!”
The carrier advanced to seize him by the hand, but stepped back as he noticed his resemblance to the deaf man in the cart.
“Now tell him all!” cried Dot. “Tell him all, Edward, and don’t spare me.”
“And you stole, disguised, into the home of your old friend!” the carrier said. “I would never have believed it of you! There was a true and frank boy once--how many years is it, Caleb, since we heard that he was dead, and had it proved, we thought? He would never have done that!”
“There was a generous friend of mine, once, a friend, who was more a father than a friend; he never would have judged a man before he heard his case. You were he. So I am certain you will hear me now.”
The carrier, with a troubled glance at Dot, replied, “Well, that’s but fair. I will.”
“You must know, then, that when I left here, a boy, I was in love, and my love was returned, but the girl was very young, and couldn’t quite make up her mind. Still I felt quite certain that she loved me as dearly as I loved her.”