What a grasp that was--both hands! and how fondly and proudly I
looked up in his face--the still boyish face. But the figure was
quite that of a man now.

For a minute we forgot ourselves in our joy, and then he let go my
hands, saying hurriedly--

"Where is your father?"

"I wish I knew!--Gone for the soldiers, they say."

"No, not that--he would never do that. I must go and look for him.
Good-bye."

"Nay, dear John!"

"Can't--can't," said he, firmly, "not while your father forbids. I
must go." And he was gone.

Though my heart rebelled, my conscience defended him; marvelling how
it was that he who had never known his father should uphold so
sternly the duty of filial obedience. I think it ought to act as a
solemn warning to those who exact so much from the mere fact and name
of parenthood, without having in any way fulfilled its duties, that
orphans from birth often revere the ideal of that bond far more than
those who have known it in reality. Always excepting those children
to whose blessed lot it has fallen to have the ideal realized.

In a few minutes I saw him and my father enter the tan-yard together.