Cecil answers by throwing herself into his arms.
"She is my one treasure in this world," Floyd Grandon exclaims with deep fervor.
He holds her very tight. She is sobbing hysterically now, but he kisses her with such passionate tenderness, that though her heart still beats with terror, she is not afraid of his anger.
The young girl stands in wondering amaze, her velvety brown eyes lustrous with emotion. Lithe, graceful, with a supple strength in every rounded limb, in the slightly compressed red lips, the broad, dimpled chin, and the straight, resolute brows. The quaint gray costume, nun-like in its plainness, cannot make a nun of her.
"You have saved my child!" and there is a great tremble in his voice. "I do not know how to thank you. I never can."
The statue moves a little, and the red lips swell, quiver, and yet she does not speak.
"I saw you from the cliff. I hardly know how you had the self-command, the forethought to do it."
"You will not scold her!" she entreats.
"My darling, no. For your sake, not a word shall be said."
"But I was naughty!" cries Cecil, in an agony of penitence. "I ran away from Jane."