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."

"Tell me," cried Holden, a little sternly, "what thou knowest of the
boy. My soul travaileth sore, and hope and doubt rend me in twain."

"Hold fast your hope my friend," said Mr. Pownal, "for all will yet
be well. Prepare yourself to hear what, without preparation, might
overcome your strength."

"Fear not," said Holden. "Yet alas! who knoweth his own heart? But a
moment ago, I thought myself as an iron mountain, and now am I weaker
than the untimely birth."

"Eliza," said Mr. Pownal turning to his wife, "bring the token you
preserved."

During the absence of his wife, Mr. Pownal endeavored to prepare the
mind of the Solitary for the joyful discovery he was about to make.
It was now, too, that Holden perceived, from the agitation of his
feelings, that he was weak, like other men, and that with whatever
hope and confidence and calmness he might contemplate the prospect
of distant happiness, its near approach shook him like a reed. Mrs.
Pownal presently returned, with a coral necklace in her hand, and
presented it to Holden.

"Do you recognize it?" she said.

He took it into his hands, and as if overcome by the violence of his
emotions, was unable to speak a word. He gazed steadily at it, his
lips moved but made no sound, and tears began to fall upon the faded
coral. At last, with broken utterance, he said:

"The last time my eyes beheld these beads they were upon the neck of
my dear child. They were the gif