After bathing his temples and chafing his hands, she had the
satisfaction, ere long, of seeing him open his eyes. At first, he seemed
to have a difficulty in fixing his gaze upon her, but her voice reached
his ears, and the feeble pressure of his hand told that he knew her.
The power of speech returned to him at length, and he faintly murmured,
"My child, I am glad to see you once more. I thought all was over; but
it has pleased Heaven to spare me for a few moments to give you my
blessing. Bow down your head, O my daughter, and take it; and though
given by a sinner like myself, it shall profit you! May the merciful
God, who pardoneth all that repent, even at the last hour, and watcheth
over the orphan, bless you, and protect you!"
"Amen!" exclaimed Jocelyn, fervently.
"Who was it spoke?" demanded the Puritan. And as no answer was returned,
he repeated the inquiry.
"It was I--Jocelyn Mounchensey, the son of your old friend," replied the
young man.
"Come nigh to me, Jocelyn," said the dying man. "I have done you wrong,
and entreat your pardon."
"O, talk not thus!" cried Jocelyn, springing towards him. "I have
nothing to forgive, but much to be forgiven."
"You have a noble heart, Jocelyn," rejoined Hugh Calveley; "and in that
respect resemble your father. In his name, I conjure you to listen to
me. You will not refuse my dying request. I have a sacred trust to
commit to you."
"Name it!" cried the young man; "and rest assured it shall be
fulfilled.
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