"Wha is it, Elsie? wha can want to see sic a mon as I?" "Yer son Roland; as soon as he heard where ye are, he left all, an' is here, langing to see his father." "Elsie, how can he e'er forget the days o' poverty an' woe that I hae brought upon his mother?" "He is a Christian, Stephen; he has forgiven a' the past, an' a' that he wants noo is to see his father, an' be a guid an' faithfu' son to him, as he was aye to his departed mother." "Bring him in, Elsie; I maun see my boy." Roland entered, and before he could prevent it, Stephen had crawled out of bed, and lay prostrate at the feet of his son. Roland instantly raised him from the ground. "Do not kneel to me, my father; I came to seek you as a loving, faithful son." "I can na look upon yer face, yer young noble face, Roland, for I am na worthy o' sic a son." "Dear father, let us forget the past; my mother would smile upon this reunion, and now your sorrows are all over; I will cherish and keep you as a true and loyal son." Stephen Bruce could not resist the generous appeal, but lifting up his voice, the poor man wept; the fountains of the great deep of feeling were broken up, and stormed the bosom of the heart-broken penitent. Elsie Gibson stood by--poor, faithful Elsie; her mission was accomplished; her woman's unselfish love was all repaid. She knelt by the side of the bed, and wept long and quietly, for hers were the tears of grateful, happy feeling. Roland beckoned to his aunt. Stephen raised his head, the pale lips quivered, as he said, "come, sister Annie, we are a' as ane again;" and stretching out his arms, he folded in the embrace of a brother's love, the twin-sister of his early days. There was no more need to persuade Stephen to return to Scotland; his anxiety to secure to this honored son all his rights, made him eager to set sail, that he might, in some measure, atone for past neglect. "You will return to America, my father, as soon as all is settled." "Yes, my son, I can na' be parted ony mair; I maun look to ye, my boy, for the strong arm; for I am a puir broken doon auld mon, auld before my time;" and Stephen folded his son in his arms with feelings of deepest reverence and love. Elsie! poor faithful Elsie, stood in weeping silence. "Fareweel, Elsie! guid an' faithfu' friend! ye hae been true through the darkest days, an' God will bless ye;" and Stephen laid his hand upon her head, as he said, "True an' faithfu' may we a' meet abuve." As soon as possible, arrangements were made to leave America; farewells exchanged; and Roland, hastening from the ship, could still glance upward, and say, "Looking aloft!" CHAPTER XXVII. HEARTS' EASE.