The parting was such as might be expected between persons brought together under circumstances so singular, where on the one side there was a sense of obligation, it was a pleasure to cherish, and on the other, the yet higher gratification of conferring happiness.  As Holden wrung the hand of Mr. Pownal who accompanied them to the vessel, that was to take them home, he invoked, in his enthusiastic way, a blessing upon his head.  “The Almighty bless thee,” he exclaimed, “with blessings of Heaven above, and blessings of the deep that lieth under.  May thy bow abide in strength, and the arms of thy hands be made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob.”

Knowing how little his father prized the things of this world.  Pownal had not communicated to him before their departure the liberal conduct of the noble merchant they had just left, but now, in a conversation one day, in which they reviewed the past, and, notwithstanding the Solitary’s faith in the speedy coming of a mighty change, speculated on the future, he disclosed the last evidence of the affection of his preserver.  Holden listened with a gratified air, for how could he be otherwise than pleased that the worth and amiable qualities of his son, had awakened so deep an interest in the heart of another, but replied,

“It was well meant, but unnecessary.  Thou hast no need of the gold and silver of others.”

The young man, supposing his father had reference to his peculiar religious notions, was silent, for it was a subject which could not be adverted to without great delicacy, and danger of vehement bursts of enthusiasm.

“Thou comprehendest me not,” said Holden.  “I say thou art in no want of the dross with which men buy, to their grief and shame, the deluding vanities of the world.”

“If it is your wish, father, I will return the gift,” said Pownal, “though I know it will hurt the generous heart of the giver.”

“I interpose not.  No voice calleth me thereto.  But my meaning is still dark, and I know not whether it is best to admit thee fully to my counsels.  Yet, thus much mayest thou now know, and more shalt thou know hereafter, that thy father is no pauper, to crave the wealth of others, and that his poverty is voluntary.  The body is kept poor, that divine grace may the more readily enrich the soul.”

“Believe me, sir, I do not wish to intrude into anything which it is your desire to keep secret.”

“There is nothing secret that shall not be revealed,” exclaimed Holden, catching at the last word, “but everything in its own order.  Let it satisfy thee, therefore, my son, to know for the present that thy father hath but to stretch forth his hand and it shall be filled, but to knock and it shall be opened.  But this is not the day, nor for my own sake, should the clock of time ever strike the hour, when that which was thrown away shall be taken again, that which was despised shall be valued.  Yet because of thee may I not lawfully withhold the hand, and as I gaze upon thy fair young face, thou seemest one whose spirit is so balanced that what men call prosperity will not hurt thee.  But affection is blind, and my heart may deceive me, and therefore will I wait until He speaks who cannot lead astray or deceive.”