She was grateful even for this. Was it that she was conscious of deserving nothing more, or did the hungry yearning of her heart seize on this sweet aliment with thankfulness after the famine of her recent life?
He saw the tears spring into her eyes, and drew her closer to his side.
"Be careful of her for my sake, Elizabeth. She was given me in solemn charge at my mother's death-bed. She has been the sweetest solace of my barren life. Let no harm come near her—no evil thing taint the mind which I leave in your hands pure as snow. Guard her, love her, and give her back to me, gentle, guileless, and good, as she lies now, in the sweetest and most innocent sleep I ever witnessed."
"I will! I will!" answered Elizabeth, conquering a sharp spasm of pain with the spirit of a martyr. "If human care, or human sacrifice can insure her welfare, I will not be found wanting."
Grantley bent down and kissed his wife gratefully.
"Remember, Elizabeth, my happiness and honor are left in your keeping."
Did he mean that honor and happiness both were bound up in Elsie, or had he really thought of her rightful share in his life?
This question flashed through the young wife's mind, but she would not accept it in a bitter sense then. The parting hour was close at hand. She trembled as each moment left them.
"I will be kind to Elsie as you can desire; indeed I will," she said. "You can trust me."
"If I doubted that, harassing as the voyage is, I would take her with me."