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“Why, mother, do look! Is this so? Do I read it right?”

“Certainly, you do,” said Diana, reading over his shoulder. “Somebody’s paid that debt, uncle!”

“Thank God!” said Mrs. Pitkin, softly; “He has done it.”

“Wal, I swow!” said Biah, after having turned the paper in his hands, “if this ‘ere don’t beat all! There’s old Squire Norcross’s name on’t. It’s the receipt, full and square. What’s come over the old crittur? He must a’ got religion in his old’ age; but if grace made him do that, grace has done a tough job, that’s all; but it’s done anyhow! and that’s all you need to care about. Wal, wal, I must git along hum–Mariar Jane’ll be wonderin’ where I be. Good night, all on ye!” and Biah’s retreating wagon wheels were off in the distance, rattling furiously, for, notwithstanding Maria Jane’s wondering, Biah was resolved not to let an hour slip by without declaring the wonderful tidings at the store.

The Pitkin family were seated at supper in the big kitchen, all jubilant over the recent news. The father, radiant with the pleasantest excitement, had for the first time come out to take his place at the family board. In the seven years since the beginning of our story the Pitkin boys had been growing apace, and now surrounded the table quite an army of rosy-cheeked, jolly young fellows, who to-night were in a perfect tumult of animal gaiety. Diana twinkled and dimpled and flung her sparkles round among them, and there was unbounded jollity.

“Who’s that looking in at the window?” called out Sam, aged ten, who sat opposite the house door. At that moment the door opened, and a dark stranger, bronzed with travel and dressed in foreign-looking garments, entered.

He stood one moment, all looking curiously at him, then crossing the floor, he kneeled down by Mrs. Pitkin’s chair, and throwing off his cap, looked her close in the eyes.

“Mother, don’t you know me?”

She looked at him one moment with that still earnestness peculiar to herself, and then fell into his arms. “O my son, my son!”

There were a few moments of indescribable confusion, during which Diana retreated, pale and breathless, to a neighboring window, and stood with her hand over the locket which she had always worn upon her heart.

After a few moments he came, and she felt him by her.

“What, cousin!” he said; “no welcome from you?” She gave one look, and he took her in his arms. She felt the beating of his heart, and he felt hers. Neither spoke, yet each felt at that moment sure of the other.

“I say, boys,” said James, “who’ll help bring in my sea chest?”

Never was sea chest more triumphantly ushered; it was a contest who should get near enough to take some part in it’s introduction, and soon it was open, and James began distributing its contents.

“There, mother,” said he, undoing a heavy black India satin and shaking out its folds, “I’m determined you shall have a dress fit for you; and here’s a real India shawl to go with it. Get those on and you’ll look as much like a queen among women as you ought to.”

Then followed something for every member of the family, received with frantic demonstrations of applause and appreciation by the more juvenile.

“Oh, what’s that?” said Sam, as a package done up in silk paper and tied with silver cord was disclosed.

“That’s–oh–that’s my wife’s wedding-dress,” said James, unfolding and shaking out a rich satin; “and here’s her shawl,” drawing out an embroidered box, scented with sandal-wood.

The boys all looked at Diana, and Diana laughed and grew pale and red all in the same breath, as James, folding back the silk and shawl in their boxes, handed them to her.

Mrs. Pitkin laughed and kissed her, and said, gaily, “All right, my daughter–just right.”

What an evening that was, to be sure! What a confusion of joy and gladness! What a half-telling of a hundred things that it would take weeks to tell.