"
"Well, then, sir," replied that gentleman, rising up, "he now stands
before you; I am Henry Woodward, father."
A hug that half strangled him was the first acknowledgment of his
identity. "Zounds, my dear Harry--Harry, my dear boy, you're welcome a
thousand times, ten thousand times. Stand off a little till I look at
you; fine young fellow, and your mother's image. Gadzooks, I was stupid
as a block not to know you; but who would have dreamed of it. There, I
say--hallo, Jenny!--come here, all of you; here is Harry at last. Are
you all deaf, or asleep?"
These words he shouted out at the top of his voice, and in a few minutes
his mother, Charles, and his sister Maria entered the room, the two
latter in a state of transport.
"Here, Jenny, here he is; you have the first claim; confound it,
Charley, Maria, don't strangle the boy; ha, ha, ha!"
In fact, the precaution, so far as the affectionate brother and sister
were concerned, was anything but needless. His mother, seeing their
eagerness to embrace him, which they did with tears of delight, stood
calmly by until he was disentangled from their arms, when she approached
him and imprinted two kisses upon his lips, with an indifference of
manner that, to a stranger, would have been extraordinary, but which,
to those who were present, excited no surprise; for she had scarcely,
during her life, ever kissed one of her own children.
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