CHAPTER XXXI.
Oh my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have wakened death! And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high, and duck again as low As hell's from heaven. OTHELLO.
In accordance with the determination he had expressed, Holden begansoon to talk about putting his wild plan of roaming through the worldinto execution, and was withheld from it only by the entreaties ofPownal, that he would at least postpone it until after the arrivalof his uncle, who was daily expected, and until they had taken hisadvice.
"I consent," said Holden, "both out of love to thee, and becauseI would not willingly leave a roof that hath protected me, withoutgiving thanks to its owner."
A few days afterwards, Mr. Pownal returned with his family, by allof whom the young man was welcomed with every evidence of the warmestregard. Holden, too, as the friend of the younger Pownal, came in fora share of attention. The family consisted of the father and mother,and two children, a boy and girl, the former of whom could not bemore than ten years of age, while the latter was probably two yearsyounger.
Mr. Pownal himself was a fine, frank, hearty gentleman of some sixtyyears, whose appearance indicated that the world had gone well withhim, and that he was satisfied with the world. The ordinary expressionof his face was that of quiet contentment, though at times it betrayeda keen sagacity and shrewdness, partly the revelation of nature, andpartly the product of an intimate intercourse with that world withwhich his business brought him, in various ways, in contact. It washowever apparent, that however much the associations and experiencesof trade had sharpened his intellect, they had not tarnished thenatural goodness of his heart. That spoke in the frank tones of hismanly voice and shone in the light of his clear blue eyes. One couldhardly look at him without a conviction that he was a man to betrusted, and a desire to grasp his hand in friendship. Holden felt theinfluence at the introduction, and no mean judge of character himself,was glad to make the acquaintance.
Mrs. Pownal was by several years the junior of her husband, and in allrespects different from him. Her hair and eyes were raven-black, hercomplexion dark and saturnine, and she wore an expression of careinconsistent with enjoyment. She had been for many years a childlesswife, and it may be that early disappointment, occasioned by the wantof children, uniting with a melancholy temperament, had imparted anappearance of dejection which the subsequent birth of a boy and girlafter she had given up the expectation of offspring, was unable toremove. She seldom smiled, and when she did, the smile played over hercountenance like the sickly gleam of a wintry clay through clouds,and seemed rather to chill than to warm what before was cold. It was aformal tribute to the customs of society, not the spontaneous outburstof joy. She presented the tips of her fingers with all the grace ofan accomplished lady, to Holden, and meant that her reception of himshould be kind, but the hand was cold, and apparently as unfeeling asmarble, and the Solitary dropped it as soon as touched. And yet Mrs.Pownal had feeling.
The first few days after the return of the Pownals was spent by themin gathering up those threads of relationship by which people areconnected with society. Even a short absence from home inducessometimes the necessity of paying and receiving many visits,proportioned to the extent of the circle in which the parties move.The visiting circle of the Pownals was large, and hence the longertime was required. Besides, the business pursuits of the merchantengrossed some hours each day, though as the head of a large house inwhich there were several younger partners, he claimed and enjoyed allthe leisure he desired. For these reasons young Pownal had found nofitting opportunity to speak in the presence of Holden of the purposewhich brought the Solitary to the city, and besides, he did notwish to do so, until the time should arrive for his own returnto Hillsdale, when he hoped, with the assistance of his uncle, topersuade him to return home. But the business of the young man was atlast completed, and he was ready to retrace his steps.
It was then one evening when both Mr. and Mrs. Pownal were present,and immediately preceding the day when he had announced his intentionto depart, that Holden, at the solicitation of young Pownal, supportedby the courteous entreaties of his uncle, narrated the events of hislife, which are already known to the reader, and avowed with thatunshaken trust in Providence, which in all circumstances sustainedhim, his resolution to beg his way through the world on his sacredsearch. His hosts had become, by this time, so accustomed to the fieryenthusiasm and antique diction of his discourse, that they no longerexcited their surprise, but as he proceeded with his tale, theattention of both seemed arrested by a strange fascination. Even thefigure of Mrs. Pownal lost its listlessness. Her black eyes becameriveted on the speaker. She bent forward, with parted lips, asif unwilling to lose a word, while from time to time glances ofintelligence passed between the husband and wife, which neither Pownalnor Holden were able to understand.
"Thus far," said the enthusiast, in conclusion, "the Lord hath led meon. By flood and fire, and in battle He hath preserved a life, thatlong was wearisome to me. But in these latter days, He hath awakeneda new hope, and given me an assurance thereof which I can better feelthan tell. He hath not prolonged my life for naught. Behold, I knowassuredly, that the child liveth, and that in my flesh, I shall seeHis salvation. Therefore, in obedience to the inner voice, will I girdup my loins, and after thanking you my friends, for the bread we havebroken together, and the roof that hath sheltered the wanderer's head,will I proceed upon my way."
He rose and strode across the room, as if to put his design intoinstant execution, but the voice of the elder Pownal arrested him.
"Stay," he said, "and listen. Your steps have indeed, been wonderfullydirected. I can give you, perhaps, some information, about this JohnJohnson, with whom the boy was left."
Holden stopped but made no motion to return. He seemed to hear andunderstand the words, but to be uncertain whence they proceeded. Hiseyes were cast up and fixed on vacancy. At last he said, still gazingin the air. "Speak Lord for thy servant heareth."
Mr. Pownal approached, and taking Holden by an arm, led him gently tothe 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 hisbosom.
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 deadmany 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 todiscover him. Your trust in Providence is not misplaced."
"Tell me," cried Holden, a little sternly, "what thou knowest of theboy. My soul travaileth sore, and hope and doubt rend me in twain."
"Hold fast your hope my friend," said Mr. Pownal, "for all will yetbe well. Prepare yourself to hear what, without preparation, mightovercome your strength."
"Fear not," said Holden. "Yet alas! who knoweth his own heart? But amoment ago, I thought myself as an iron mountain, and now am I weakerthan the untimely birth."
"Eliza," said Mr. Pownal turning to his wife, "bring the token youpreserved."
During the absence of his wife, Mr. Pownal endeavored to prepare themind of the Solitary for the joyful discovery he was about to make.It was now, too, that Holden perceived, from the agitation of hisfeelings, that he was weak, like other men, and that with whateverhope and confidence and calmness he might contemplate the prospectof distant happiness, its near approach shook him like a reed. Mrs.Pownal presently returned, with a coral necklace in her hand, andpresented it to Holden.
"Do you recognize it?" she said.
He took it into his hands, and as if overcome by the violence of hisemotions, was unable to speak a word. He gazed steadily at it, hislips moved but made no sound, and tears began to fall upon the fadedcoral. At last, with broken utterance, he said:
"The las
t time my eyes beheld these beads they were upon the neck ofmy dear child. They were the gift of his mother, and she hung themaround his neck. Examine the clasp and you will find S.B., theinitials of her maiden name, engraved upon it. My tears blind mysight."
"They are, indeed, upon the clasp," said Mrs. Pownal, who appearedto have a greater control over herself than her husband over hisfeelings: "we have often seen them, but little did we expect theywould ever contribute to the discovery of the parentage of ourdear"----
She turned to young Pownal, and threw her arms again about his neck.
"Come hither, Thomas," said Mr. Pownal, "the necklace was taken fromyour neck. This is your father. Mr. Holden, embrace your son."
The young man rushed to his father, and threw himself at his feet.Holden extended his hands, but the sudden revulsion of high wroughtfeeling was more than he could bear. The color fled face and lips, andhe fell forward insensible into the arms of his long lost son.
"I feared it would be so," said Mr. Pownal; "but joy seldom kills.See," he added, after Mrs. Pownal had sprinkled some water in the faceof the gasping man, "he is recovering. He will soon be himself again."
Restored to consciousness, Holden clasped his recovered son to hisbosom, and kissed his cheeks, while the young man returned with warmthhis demonstrations of affection. Pownal, we have seen, had been fromthe first attracted to the Solitary, either by the noble qualities hediscovered in him, or from the interest he felt in his romanticmode of life, or from that mysterious sympathy of consanguinity, theexistence of which is asserted by some, and denied by others. Hewas, therefore, prepared to receive with pleasure the relationship.Besides, it was a satisfaction to find his father in one, who, howeverpoor his worldly circumstances, and whatever his eccentricities, wasevidently a man of education and noble mind. For the young man washimself a nobleman of nature, who had inherited some of the romanceof his father, and, indeed, in whom were slumbering, unconsciously tohimself, many traits of character like those of the father, and whichneeded only opportunity to be developed.
The first words Holden uttered, after recovering from his emotionsufficiently to speak, were:
"Lord! now let thou thy servant depart, for mine eyes have seen thysalvation."
"Do not talk of departing," said Mr. Pownal. "It seems to me now isthe very time to stay. Many years of happiness are in store for you."
"But," said Holden, "tell me, thou who hast conferred an obligationthat can never be repaid, and restored as it were the dead to life,how didst thou become the preserver of my child?"
But a few words are necessary to answer Holden's questions. As thehappy father sat with his arm over his son's neck, Mr. Pownal relatedthe following particulars.
"The John Johnson, of whom Esther the squaw told you," said Mr.Pownal, "was some nineteen or twenty years ago a porter in the employof our house. He was an honest, industrious man, who remained in ourservice until his death, which happened two or three years after theevent I am about to relate, and enjoyed our confidence to the last. Itwas in the Spring--the month I do not recollect--when he came to thecounting-room and desired to speak with me in private. He told me thaton the previous evening he had found a child, dressed in rags, asleepupon the steps of his house, and that to preserve it from perishing hehad taken it in. His own family was large, and he was a poor man, elsehe would willingly keep it. He knew not exactly what to do, and as hewas in the habit of consulting me when in any difficulty, he thoughthe had better do so now. It was a pretty lively little boy, but soyoung that though beginning to speak it was unable to give any accountof itself.
"While Johnson was speaking a plan came into my mind, which I hadthought of before, and it seemed as if the child were providentiallysent in order to enable me to accomplish it. The truth is, that I hadbeen married for several years, and the merry voice of no child ofmy own had gladdened my home and I had given up the expectation ofchildren. Loving them dearly, it occurred to me to adopt some child,and rear it as my own. The feelings of Mrs. Pownal were the sameas mine, and we had often talked over the subject together, butone circumstance and another, I can hardly tell what they were, hadpostponed the execution of our purpose from day to day. I thereforesaid to Johnson that I would attend him home and see the child, afterwhich I should be better able to give him advice. Accordingly wewent together to his house, which I recollect was the very one youdescribed as having visited in your search in William street. There Ifound the little waif, a bright eyed boy of some three or four yearsof age, though his cheeks were pale and thin, as if he had alreadyknown some suffering. He wore around his neck the coral beads youhave in your hand, which seemed to me at the time to have been left inorder to facilitate a recognition. The appealing look and sweet smilewith which he gazed into my eyes, as if demanding protection, was, inthe condition of my feelings, more than I could withstand, and I tookhim home and gave him to my wife. She seemed equally pleased withmyself, and for a time we reared him as a child of our own. Richly hashe repaid our love, and you may well be proud of such a son. But someten years afterwards, to our surprise, for we had given up all hopeof such a blessing, Heaven gave us a son, and two years after thata daughter. The birth of the children altered, in some respects, ourcalculations, and I thought it necessary to communicate to Thomas thefact that he was not my son, but promising that he should ever be tome as one, and leaving it to be inferred from the identity of name,for I had given him my own, that he was a relative. He has more thanonce endeavored to penetrate the mystery, but I have always shrunkfrom revealing it, although determined that at some time or anotherhe should be made acquainted with it, and with that view, to guardagainst the contingencies of sudden death, prepared a narrative of theevents I am relating, which is at this moment in my desk addressed tohim. Mr. Holden," concluded Mr. Pownal, and his voice choked for aninstant, "I can wish you no higher good fortune than that the youth,who, if not the offspring of my loins, is the son of my affection, maybe to you a source of as much happiness as he has been to me."
Moved to tears the young man threw himself into the arms of hisbenefactor, and in broken words murmured his gratitude.
"Ah!" cried he, "you were always so indulgent and so kind, dear sir!Had it not been for, you, what should I have been to day?"
"Nay, Thomas," said Mr. Pownal, "you have conferred a benefit greaterthan you received. You filled a void in hearts that were aching foran object of parental love, and for years were the solitary beam ofsunshine in a household that would else have been desolate and dark.And had I not interposed, other means would have been found to restoreyou to your proper sphere. There is that in you, my son--let me stillcall you by the dear name--that under any circumstances would haveforced its way, and elevated you from darkness into light, fromobscurity into distinction."
Young Pownal cast his eyes upon the carpet, and blushed like a girl atthe recital of his praises. No words came to his assistance, but thedeep voice of his father relieved him from his embarrassment.
"It may be true what thou sayest, angel of the Lord," he said,addressing Mr. Pownal, "thou who hast been even as a cloud by day, anda pillar of fire by night, to guide the lad through the wilderness ofthe world, but not the less are our thanks and eternal gratitudedue to thee as the chosen instrument to accomplish His will. Maythe blessing of the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, of Him whocalled unto Moses out of the burning bush, of Him who is the root andthe offspring of David, the bright and morning Star, rest andabide with thee and thy house for ever. And thou, madam," he added,approaching Mrs. Pownal with a dignity and grace that caused hissingular appearance to be quite overlooked, "how shall he, who is anoutcast no longer, thank thee?" He pressed his hand upon his heart, asif to restrain its beating, then bending over and taking her hand intohis own, kissed it with the devotion of a devotee. "Blessed be thouabove women. The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble, and fulfill allthy desire. Thou didst pity and shalt be pitied: thou wast mercifuland shalt receive mercy. 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least ofthese lit
tle ones, ye did it unto me,' saith Christ."
"We are abundantly compensated, Mr. Holden," observed Mrs. Pownal,feeling it incumbent to say something, and yet at a loss what to say."Mr. Pownal has expressed my feelings better than I can myself. But,Thomas, you shall still be our son, for all these disclosures."
"Mother! mother!" cried Pownal, kneeling by her side, and kissing thelips she offered to his, "you shall always be my dear mother, as longas you permit me to call you so. Oh, how little have I known howmuch I was indebted to you, and my second father. I have dreamed andwondered, but the imagination still fell short of the truth."
"Thou hast received an obligation, my son," said Holden, "whichall thy love and devotedness can never repay, and the claims of thyparents by kindness are stronger than mine. To me thou owest life,to them its preservation and honorable station. Thou wilt give me thelove thou hast to spare, but to them belongs the greater portion."
"We will be content with equal parts," said Mr. Pownal, smiling. "Inthis partnership of affection none must claim a superior share."
"Strange!" exclaimed Holden, fastening his eyes on his son, andspeaking, as was his wont sometimes, as to himself, "that the fulltruth broke not on me before. The heart yearned to him, he was as abright star to me; his voice was the music of the forest to my ears;his eyes were as a sweet dream, a vanished happiness, but I understoodnot. It is plain now. It was the voice of my Sarah I heard: they wereher eyes that looked into my heart through his. And was it not thyprompting, mysterious Nature, that inclined him to me? Was there nota dim revelation, that I was more to him than other men? Else whydelighted he in the society of a lone, wayward man like me? Lord GodAlmighty, no man knoweth the ordinances of heaven, nor can he set thedominion thereof upon the earth!"
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