“Well, well,” she replied, “don’t be cast down; perhaps I could tell you good news if I wished.”

“You’re beating about the bush, Mary, at all events,” said her husband, laughing.

“Perhaps, now, Mr. Folliard,” she continued, “I could introduce a young lady who is so fond of you, old and ugly as you are, that she would not hesitate to kiss you tenderly, and cry with delight on your bosom you old thief.”

They both started at her words with amazement, and her husband said:  “Egad, Alick, Helen’s malady seems catching.  What the deuce do you mean, Molly? or must I, too, send for a doctor?”

“Shall I introduce you to the lady, though?” she proceeded, addressing the father; “but remember that, if I do, you must be a man, Mr. Folliard!”

“In God’s name! do what you like,” said Mr. Hamilton, “but do it at once.”

She went upstairs, and said, “As I do not wish to bring your father up, Helen, until he is prepared for a meeting with Mr. Reilly, I will bring you down to him.  The sight of you now will give him new life.”

“Oh, come, then,” said Helen, “bring me to my father; do not lose a moment, not a moment—­oh, let me see him instantly!”

The poor old man suspected something.  “For a thousand!” said he, “this is some good news about Helen!”

“Make your mind up for that,” replied his mend; “as sure as you live it is; and if it be, bear it stoutly.”

In the course of a few minutes Mrs. Hamilton entered the room with Helen, now awakened to perfect reason, smiling, and leaning upon her arm.  “Oh, dear papa!” she exclaimed, meeting him, with a flood of tears, and resting her head on his bosom.

“What, my darling!—­my darling!  And you know papa once more!—­you know him again, my darling Helen!  Oh, thanks be to God for this happy day!” And he kissed her lips, and pressed her to his heart, and wept over her with ecstasy and delight.  It was a tender and tearful embrace.

“Oh, papa!” said she, “I fear I have caused you much pain and sorrow:  something has been wrong, but I am well now that he is here.  I felt the tones of his voice in my heart.”

“Who, darling, who?”

“Reilly, papa.”

“Hamilton, bring him down instantly; but oh, Helen, darling, how will I see him?—­how can I see him? but he must come, and we must all be happy.  Bring him down.”

“You know, papa, that Reilly is generosity itself.”

“He is, he is, Helen, and how could I blame you for loving him?”

[Illustration:  PAGE 183—­My son! my son!]

Reilly soon entered; but the old man, already overpowered by what had just occurred, was not able to speak to him for some time.  He clasped and pressed his hand, however, and at length said: 

“My son! my son!  Now,” he added, after he had recovered himself, “now that I have both together, I will not allow one minute to pass until I give you both my blessing; and in due time, when Helen gets strong, and when I get a little stouter, you shall be married; the parson and the priest will make you both happy.  Reilly, can you forgive me?”