"Your son is at the door." "Ah, indeed, that he is, that he is! My son! My son!" She stood in the doorway with hands uplifted and with tears streaming down her face.

"Come in, Malcolm; come in, my boy.

Your mother is waiting for you." Then they carried him in and laid him in the "room," and retiring to the kitchen, sat down to watch the night.
In half an hour the father came out and found them there.
"You have done what you could, Mr.Macdonald," he said, addressing him for all, "and I will not be unmindful of your kindness.

But now you can do no more.

Your wife and your people will be waiting you." "And, please God, in good time they will be seeing us.