It was then one evening when both Mr. and Mrs. Pownal were present, and immediately preceding the day when he had announced his intention to depart, that Holden, at the solicitation of young Pownal, supported by the courteous entreaties of his uncle, narrated the events of his life, which are already known to the reader, and avowed with that unshaken trust in Providence, which in all circumstances sustained him, his resolution to beg his way through the world on his sacred search.  His hosts had become, by this time, so accustomed to the fiery enthusiasm and antique diction of his discourse, that they no longer excited their surprise, but as he proceeded with his tale, the attention of both seemed arrested by a strange fascination.  Even the figure of Mrs. Pownal lost its listlessness.  Her black eyes became riveted on the speaker.  She bent forward, with parted lips, as if unwilling to lose a word, while from time to time glances of intelligence passed between the husband and wife, which neither Pownal nor Holden were able to understand.

“Thus far,” said the enthusiast, in conclusion, “the Lord hath led me on.  By flood and fire, and in battle He hath preserved a life, that long was wearisome to me.  But in these latter days, He hath awakened a new hope, and given me an assurance thereof which I can better feel than tell.  He hath not prolonged my life for naught.  Behold, I know assuredly, that the child liveth, and that in my flesh, I shall see His salvation.  Therefore, in obedience to the inner voice, will I gird up my loins, and after thanking you my friends, for the bread we have broken together, and the roof that hath sheltered the wanderer’s head, will I proceed upon my way.”

He rose and strode across the room, as if to put his design into instant execution, but the voice of the elder Pownal arrested him.

“Stay,” he said, “and listen.  Your steps have indeed, been wonderfully directed.  I can give you, perhaps, some information, about this John Johnson, with whom the boy was left.”

Holden stopped but made no motion to return.  He seemed to hear and understand the words, but to be uncertain whence they proceeded.  His eyes were cast up and fixed on vacancy.  At last he said, still gazing in the air.  “Speak Lord for thy servant heareth.”

Mr. Pownal approached, and taking Holden by an arm, led him gently to the sofa, and took a seat by his side.  Mrs. Pownal said not a word, but threw her arms round young Pownal’s neck, and sobbed upon his bosom.

The young man, unable to divine a reason for such unusual emotion, could only silently return the caress and wait for an explanation.

“I knew a person of the name,” said Mr. Pownal, “but he has been dead many years.”

“But the child, but the child,” exclaimed Holden, “he is yet alive!”

“I do not doubt he is alive, I am confident we shall be able to discover him.  Your trust in Providence is not misplaced.”