All this Israel saw on the instant, and then his sight grew dim, his heart beat as if it would kill him, a thick mist seemed to cover everything, and through the dense waves of semi-consciousness he heard the dull hum of Fatimah's muffled voice coming to him as from far away.
"My pretty Naomi! My little heart! My sweet jewel of gold and silver! It is nothing! Nothing! Look! See! Her father has come back! Her dear father has come back to her!" Presently the room ceased to go round and round, and Israel knew that Naomi's arms surrounded him, that his own arms enlaced her, and that her head was pressed hard against his bosom.

Yes, it was she! It was Naomi! Ali had told him truth.

She lived! She was well! She could hear! The old hope that had chirped in his soul was justified, and the dear delicious dream was come true.

Oh! God was great, God was good, God had given him more than he had asked or deserved! Thus for some minutes he stood motionless, blessing the God of Jacob, yet uttering no words, for his heart was too full for speech, only holding Naomi closely to him, while his tears fell on her blind face.
And the black people in the chamber wept to see it, that not more dumb in that great hour of gladness was she who was born so than he to whose house had come the wonderful work that God had wrought.
No heed had Israel given yet to the bodeful signs in Naomi's face, in joy over such as were joyful.

When he had taken her in his arms she had known him, and she had clung to him in her glad surprise.