The silence of unutterable emotion fell upon the father and son for a few moments, and then the old man held the younger one off at arm’s length and gazed wistfully into his face, saying, as he slowly shook his white head: “You are not so much changed since I saw you last on the day you sailed on that disastrous voyage, my boy; not so much changed, after all. Somewhat taller and gaunter in form, darker in complexion, and older in aspect than formerly, but not so much as might have been expected after seventeen years of captivity among barbarians. I am more changed than you are, my son. Ah! I have grown very aged in the long years of your absence and supposed death, Lonny.” “Yes, father, you and I are both traveling towards—eternal youth.” “And your mother, Lonny—your mother——” Here the old man’s voice became choked with emotion. “Don’t, father, don’t. I heard all that in the city. Strangers to me, who would not credit my story, yet remembered—could tell me—how——” Here Lonny’s voice broke down. “She could not survive the news of that fatal week,” said the commodore, struggling for self-command. “She could not live to see this day, Lonny.” “Don’t, father, don’t! Don’t say that! We know, when we _think_ about it, that she _has_ lived to see this day, though from a higher sphere. She has lived in heaven these many years! Father, we _must_ believe that, because she was so good. And we shall find her there in good time if we, too, lead good lives! And now, dear sir, tell me of—of Emolyn.” “Your wife?” “Yes, my wife! You know it, then? She has told you? I thought so when I saw her with you, but I was not sure, so I spoke very cautiously of her to my Cousin Ronald.” “Yes, she told me,” admitted the commodore, but he did not add how very recently Emolyn had made her appearance and taken him into her confidence. To have done so would have involved too much explanation for the moment. “How is she and where is she now? I left her fainting. It was hard to do so——” “But you could not help yourself, as I was in such a blind fury that I took you for a ruffian who had frightened her half to death, and so I ordered you off, and of course to have persisted in staying would have made matters much worse for the fainting woman.” “Yes, but how is she and where is she at this moment? I am most anxious to see her. She recognized me, you know.” “Yes, and when she recovered from her swoon she became so wild, and excitable, and reproached us so bitterly for letting you go, and urged us so strenuously to fetch you back, calling you always ‘him,’ and never using your name, that we thought her hysterical or delirious, and so your good aunt gave her a dose of morphia in a glass of port wine to compose her nerves. I left her sleeping under the influence of the opiate. You can come to her room, Lonny, and sit by her bed and wait for her awakening; it cannot be far off now.”