For an hour Richard’s well-modulated, full-toned voice rolled on, the circle drawing closer and closer with their ears and hearts, as the characters, one after another, became real and alive under the reader’s magical rendering.  Dot Perrybingle’s cheery, laughing accents; Tackleton’s sharp, rasping tones; John the Carrier’s simple, straightforward utterances and the soft, timid cadence of old Caleb, the toy maker—­(drowned Edward’s father)—­and his blind daughter Bertha were recognized as soon as the reader voiced their speech.  So thrilling was the story of their several joys and sorrows that Kate, unconscious of her surroundings, had slipped from her low stool, and with the weight of her body resting on her knees, sat searching Richard’s face, the better to catch every word that fell from his lips.

To heighten the effect of what was the most dramatic part of the story—­the return of the wedding party to the Carrier’s house, where Dot, Caleb, and his blind daughter awaited them—­Richard paused for a moment as if to rest his voice—­the room the while deathly still, the loosening of a pent-up breath now and then showing how tense was the emotion.  Then he went on: 

“Are those wheels upon the road, Bertha?”, cried Dot.  “You’ve a quick ear, Bertha—­And now you hear them stopping at the garden gate!  And now you hear a step outside the door—­the same step, Bertha, is it not—­And now—­”

Dot uttered a wild cry of uncontrollable delight, and running up to Caleb put her hand upon his eyes, as a young man rushed into the room, and, flinging away his hat into the air, came sweeping down upon them.

“Is it over?” cried Dot.

“Yes!”

“Happily over?”

“Yes!”

“Do you recollect the voice, dear Caleb?  Did you ever hear the like of it before?” cried Dot.

“If my boy Edward in the Golden South Americas was alive—­” cried Caleb, trembling.

“He is alive!” shrieked Dot, removing her hands from his eyes and clapping them in ecstasy; “look at him!  See where he stands before you, healthy and strong!  Your own dear son!  Your own dear, living, loving brother, Bertha!”

All honor to the little creature for her transports!  All honor to her tears and laughter, when the three were locked in one another’s arms!  All honor to the heartiness with which she met the sunburnt, sailor-fellow, with his dark, streaming hair, halfway, and never turned her rosy little mouth aside, but suffered him to kiss it freely, and to press her to his bounding heart!

“Now tell him (John) all, Edward,” sobbed Dot, “and don’t spare me, for nothing shall make me spare myself in his eyes ever again.”

“I was the man,” said Edward.

“And you could steal disguised into the home of your old friend,” rejoined the carrier ...

“But I had a passion for her.”

“You!”

“I had,” rejoined the other, “and she returned it—­I heard twenty miles away that she was false to me—­I had no mind to reproach her but to see for myself.”