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. "I'll be calm--anything--only don't refuse a starving man bread! Davy, tell me!" "They're here, old man." "Here! Can I--will they--?" "Ah, we've got to be careful of you, Jim, old chap," Mr. Linton said. "You've been a very sick man--and you're not better yet. But they're only living on the hope of seeing you--of having you again--of making it up to you." "And they believe in me?" "The boy--Dick--never believed a word against you," Mr. Linton said. "And your wife--ah, if she doubted, she has paid for it again and again in tears. You'll forgive her, Jim?" "Yes," he said simply. "I've been bitter enough God knows, but it all seems gone. You'll bring her, Davy?" But at the word Norah was out of the room, racing along the hall. Out in the gardens Dick Stephenson dug mightily in the hard soil, and his mother watched him, listening always. She heard the flying footsteps on the gravel and turned quickly to meet Norah. "Mr. Stephenson, he wants you!" "Is he worse?" Dick gasped. "No--I think he's all right. But he knows everything and he wants you both!" In his room the Hermit heard the steps in the hall--the light, slow feet, and the man's tread, that curbed its impatience, lingering to support them. His breath came quickly as he stared at the door. Then for a moment they faced each other, after the weary years; each gaunt and wan and old, but in their eyes the light and the love of long ago. The hermit's eyes wandered an instant to his son's face, seeking in the stalwart man the little lad he knew. Then they came back to his wife. "Mary!" "Jim!" She tottered to the bed. "Jim--can you forgive me?" "Forgive--oh, my girl!" The two grey heads were close together. David Linton slipped from the room. CHAPTER XVIII. EVENING They were all sitting on the lawn in the twilight. Norah had dispensed afternoon tea with laborious energy, ably seconded by Dick, who carried cups and cake, and made himself generally useful. Then they had talked until the sun slipped over the edge of the plain. There was so much to talk of in those days. The Hermit had been allowed to leave his room a fortnight since. He was still weak, but strength was coming every day--strength that follows on happiness. Norah declared he grew better every day and no one contradicted her. He and his wife sat hand in hand. They were rarely seen any other way--perfect content on each placid face. Dick lay on the gra
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