A deep sonorous voice bade him enter; and taking his wife’s hand in his, he led her into a large, low, airy apartment, which had windows looking both south and west, where, upon a cleverly-contrived couch, running very easily upon wheels, lay an old man with a lion-like face and a mass of snow-white hair, whose hands were extended in eager yet restrained and dignified greeting. "Welcome—thrice welcome—happy bridegroom! Methought you would not fail to come and visit me to-night!" "Of course I should not fail, good friend; and here I bring you my wife, whom you have ofttimes desired to see.—Geraldine, need I tell you that this is my friend, Mr. Jonathan Wylde, whom last you saw as Father Time with his scythe and hour-glass? Well, he has cheated both, you see, albeit he was like to be mown down once. He will remain as our honoured guest and friend so long as he is spared to us. For he did come to my aid when I was very near to desperation and despair, and we have stood shoulder to shoulder ever since." "I know all the tale," answered Geraldine, and she knelt down and took the old man’s hands in hers, bending upon him one of her sweetest glances. "It is a tale that goes to my heart, for it is hard to think even of sufferings past, where those we love are concerned. I thank you from my heart for all you did at that time for my husband. And indeed it was (under Providence) through you that his bark reached at the last so fair a haven, and that we are here together this night." The tears which had sprung to the old man’s eyes slowly rolled down his cheeks. His happiness in seeing again the man he loved with his bride at his side was almost too much for him. Geraldine saw this, and pressed his hands gently, rising to her feet at the same time. "Nay, nay," he answered brokenly; "I was but an instrument in the hands of Providence—a link of the chain not made by human hands." "Yes, truly, we will think of it like that. It is God who has brought good out of evil, peace out of strife, calm out of storm for us all. To Him will we give the thanks and the praise. And now, good friend, we must bid you farewell, though only till the morrow." He took their hands, one in each of his, and looked at them as one of the old patriarchs might have gazed upon his beloved ones. "God bless and prosper you, my children!" he said; and they softly answered, "Amen." PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE PRESS OF THE PUBLISHERS.