On the next day I embraced my uncle Sepa, and with an eager heart departed from Annu back to Abouthis. To be short, I came thither in safety, having been absent five years and a month, being now no more a boy but a man full grown and having my mind well stocked with the knowledge of men and the ancient wisdom of Egypt. So once again I saw the old lands, and the known faces, though of these some few were wanting, having been gathered to Osiris. Now, as, riding across the fields, I came nigh to the enclosure of the Temple, the priests and people issued forth to bid me welcome, and with them the old wife, Atoua, who, but for a few added wrinkles that Time had cut upon her forehead, was just as she had been when she threw the sandal after me five long years before. “_La! la! la!_” she cried; “and there thou art, my bonny lad; more bonny even than thou wert! _La!_ what a man! what shoulders! and what a face and form! Ah, it does an old woman credit to have dandled thee! But thou art over-pale; those priests down there at Annu have starved thee, surely? Starve not thyself: the Gods love not a skeleton. ‘Empty stomach makes empty head’ as they say at Alexandria. But this is a glad hour; ay, a joyous hour. Come in--come in!” and as I lighted down she embraced me. But I thrust her aside. “My father! where is my father?” I cried; “I see him not!” “Nay, nay, have no fear,” she answered; “his Holiness is well; he waits thee in his chamber. There, pass on. O happy day! O happy Abouthis!” So I went, or rather ran, and reached the chamber of which I have written, and there at the table sat my father, Amenemhat, the same as he had been, but very old. I came to him and, kneeling before him, kissed his hand, and he blessed me. “Look up, my son,” he said, “let my old eyes gaze upon thy face, that I may read thy heart.” So I lifted up my head, and he looked upon me long and earnestly. “I read thee,” he said at length; “thou art pure and strong in wisdom; I have not been deceived in thee. Oh, the years have been lonely; but I did well to send thee hence. Now, tell me of thy life; for thy letters have told me little, and thou canst not know, my son, how hungry is a father’s heart.” And so I told him; we sat far into the night and talked together. And in the end he bade me know that I must now prepare to be initiated into those last mysteries that are learned of the chosen of the Gods.