The dear old mother raised her eyes.  They were clear and tearless.  An expression of wonder, hope, and love flitted over her face.  It seemed as if her youth were suddenly renewed and, bounding from her seat, she rushed to the speaker in a paroxysm of joy.  “Oh, Robby!  Robby! is dis you?  Is dat my pore, dear boy I’se been prayin’ ’bout all dese years?  Oh, glory! glory!” And overflowing with joyous excitement she threw her arms around him, looking the very impersonation of rapturous content.  It was a happy time.  Mothers whose children had been torn from them in the days of slavery knew how to rejoice in her joy.  The young people caught the infection of the general happiness and rejoiced with them that rejoiced.  There were songs of rejoicing and shouts of praise.  The undertone of sadness which had so often mingled with their songs gave place to strains of exultation; and tears of tender sympathy flowed from eyes which had often been blurred by anguish.  The child of many prayers and tears was restored to his mother.

Iola stood by the mother’s side, smiling, and weeping tears of joy.  When Robert’s mother observed Iola, she said to Robert, “Is dis yore wife?”

“Oh, no,” replied Robert, “but I believe she is your grandchild, the daughter of the little girl who was sold away from you so long ago.  She is on her way to the farther South in search of her mother.”

“Is she?  Dear chile!  I hope she’ll fine her!  She puts me in mine ob my pore little Marie.  Well, I’se got one chile, an’ I means to keep on prayin’ tell I fine my daughter.  I’m so happy!  I feel’s like a new woman!”

“My dear mother,” said Robert, “now that I have found you, I mean to hold you fast just as long as you live.  Ever since the war I have been trying to find out if you were living, but all efforts failed.  At last, I thought I would come and hunt you myself and, now that I have found you, I am going to take you home to live with me, and to be as happy as the days are long.  I am living in the North, and doing a good business there.  I want you to see joy according to all the days wherein you have seen sorrow.  I do hope this young lady will find her ma and that, when found, she will prove to be your daughter!”

“Yes, pore, dear chile!  I specs her mudder’s heart’s mighty hungry fer her.  I does hope she’s my gran’chile.”

Tenderly and caressingly Iola bent over the happy mother, with her heart filled with mournful memories of her own mother.

Aunt Linda was induced to stay until the next morning, and then gladly assisted Robert’s mother in arranging for her journey northward.  The friends who had given her a shelter in their hospitable home, learned to value her so much that it was with great reluctance they resigned her to the care of her son.  Aunt Linda was full of bustling activity, and her spirits overflowed with good humor.

“Now, Harriet,” she said, as they rode along on their return journey, “you mus’ jis’ thank me fer finin’ yore chile, ’cause I got him to come to dat big meetin’ wid me.”