a, _Love_! Two old faces, wrinkled,
anxious. Eyes not so bright as once, dimmer to-day for tears; hair
sprinkled with gray. Prayers broken by sobbing; trust disappointed;
confidence violated. Ay, hearts that loved him first, and would surely
love him always. Smiles first recognized of all he has ever seen, that
could not change to frowns. They call him with tremulous tenderness, and
the heart of Silas breaks with hearing. Bleed, poor heart, but let not
those old hearts bleed!

The music of the inviting waves is not so soft as the sound of those
feeble voices,--the freedom they promise is not powerful to tempt him;
behold the arms that hang powerless yonder, and the hearts whose tides
are more wondrous than those of the sea! The halcyon days shall never
break through eternal ages on him, if he will walk on now in darkness.

"I will arise and go to my father."

The everlasting gates lift up their heads. The full-grown man reenters.
Love drove him forth with stripes; there may have been who rejoiced and
thought of fainting Ishmael. But against no man should this youth's hand
be lifted. No son of the bond-woman he. Isaac, not Ishmael.

Love drove him forth with stripes; but a holier drew him home. By his
past life's integrity the man was bound,--by the honor of a good name,
that waited to be justified.

He went home to ask forgiveness of LOVE. Not of Youth and Beauty, but of
Age and Trust.

He went home to souls which had proved themselves, each one, before the
divine messenger in the hours of his absence.

Back, once more to break on a little circle gathered in an obscure
corner of the town, talking his case over with distressed perplexity: to
women disturbed with fears incredible to them,--to three, save one who
did not seem distracted, and who looked around her with something like
triumph, as a prophet might gaze when his word was verified. She was the
youngest and the fairest of them all. How many times she had said, "He
can explain. He will come soon. How can you fear for Silas?"

He went back to the dead silence that fell with his appearing. His
mother was first to break it. With a faltering voice she spoke, but with
the authority of maternal love and faith,--through sobs, but with
authority.

"There! there! I told you! Now speak, Silas! quick! Did you find
him?"--and, half fainting, she threw her arms about her son.

The father would fain speak with severity, but he failed in the attempt;
he could no long