The words came forth in a cry of pain, yet joy shone in her face.
He knelt down on the grass and folded her close to his heart, raining kisses on her forehead, her hair, and her pretty hands. "My child, my child," he murmured, with eager tenderness. "She is frightened. She believed me dead. She has not had time to be glad. Oh, Rose, it is your father; kiss me, kiss me, little Rose."
The child trembled in his arms, but reached up her lips and kissed him over and over again.
"Now," said Mason, putting her away from his bosom, and examining her with tears of proud fondness in his eye, "now, my little Rose, go with me to your mother; is she in the house?"
Again that shiver came over the child; she bent her eyes to the earth, and seemed to wither under his look.
"Oh, father, father, don't."
"What is the matter, Rose—why are you afraid? Come, come, go with me to your mother."
"Mother isn't here," faltered the child.
A look of keen disappointment swept Mason's face. "Not here! Not with her child! Then, where is she?"
"I don't know, father, indeed I don't; she would marry Captain Thrasher, and go away. I begged and begged her not to; but she would do it."