Ishmael earnestly, and caressing the pale, thin hand that he held.

"Oh, Nora! Oh, Nora!" exclaimed Herman, as all his bosom's wounds
bled afresh.

"Father, do not grieve so bitterly; and after all these years so
morbidly! God has wiped away all tears from her eyes. She has been a
saint in glory these many years!"

"You try to comfort me, Ishmael. You, Nora's son?" exclaimed Herman,
with increased emotion.

"Who else of all the world should comfort you but Nora's son?"

"You love me, then, a little, Ishmael?"

"She loved you, my father, and why should not I?"

"Ah, that means that you will love me in time; for love is not born
in an instant, my son."

"My heart reaches out to you, my father: I love you even now, and
sympathize with you deeply; and I feel that I shall love you more
and more, and as I shall see you oftener and know you better," said
the simply truthful son.

"Ishmael! this is the happiest hour I have known since Nora's death,
and Nora's son has given it to me."

"None have a better right to serve you."