“Nay, Thomas,” said Mr. Pownal, “you have conferred a benefit greater than you received.  You filled a void in hearts that were aching for an object of parental love, and for years were the solitary beam of sunshine in a household that would else have been desolate and dark.  And had I not interposed, other means would have been found to restore you to your proper sphere.  There is that in you, my son—­let me still call you by the dear name—­that under any circumstances would have forced its way, and elevated you from darkness into light, from obscurity into distinction.”

Young Pownal cast his eyes upon the carpet, and blushed like a girl at the recital of his praises.  No words came to his assistance, but the deep voice of his father relieved him from his embarrassment.

“It may be true what thou sayest, angel of the Lord,” he said, addressing Mr. Pownal, “thou who hast been even as a cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night, to guide the lad through the wilderness of the world, but not the less are our thanks and eternal gratitude due to thee as the chosen instrument to accomplish His will.  May the blessing of the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, of Him who called unto Moses out of the burning bush, of Him who is the root and the offspring of David, the bright and morning Star, rest and abide with thee and thy house for ever.  And thou, madam,” he added, approaching Mrs. Pownal with a dignity and grace that caused his singular appearance to be quite overlooked, “how shall he, who is an outcast no longer, thank thee?” He pressed his hand upon his heart, as if to restrain its beating, then bending over and taking her hand into his own, kissed it with the devotion of a devotee.  “Blessed be thou above women.  The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, and fulfill all thy desire.  Thou didst pity and shalt be pitied:  thou wast merciful and shalt receive mercy.  ’Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these little ones, ye did it unto me,’ saith Christ.”

“We are abundantly compensated, Mr. Holden,” observed Mrs. Pownal, feeling it incumbent to say something, and yet at a loss what to say.  “Mr. Pownal has expressed my feelings better than I can myself.  But, Thomas, you shall still be our son, for all these disclosures.”

“Mother! mother!” cried Pownal, kneeling by her side, and kissing the lips she offered to his, “you shall always be my dear mother, as long as you permit me to call you so.  Oh, how little have I known how much I was indebted to you, and my second father.  I have dreamed and wondered, but the imagination still fell short of the truth.”

“Thou hast received an obligation, my son,” said Holden, “which all thy love and devotedness can never repay, and the claims of thy parents by kindness are stronger than mine.  To me thou owest life, to them its preservation and honorable station.  Thou wilt give me the love thou hast to spare, but to them belongs the greater portion.”