“My mother? My darling mother? I never think of her as a stepmother, Polly dear. Oh, she knows all about it and is ready to welcome you as a daughter.”
The young girl, with a sudden lift of her head, smiled joyously and seemed to gather courage at once.
“I will go,” she frankly declared. “And yet I dread to meet him. Is he so very sick, and will his looks frighten me?”
“It may be,” answered Clarke, “but I shall be there to make it as easy for you as possible. Do not think of my father, but of me and my love.”
She sighed with joy and ran off, as free a thing as the sun shone upon; and he watching her felt his heart soften more and more to her womanly sweetness.
“My father will feel her charm,” he murmured, and hastened up the garden walk to the gate where he had promised to wait for her.
Clarke Unwin was no ordinary man. He was the thoughtful son of a proud reserved father, and he had an aim in life quite apart from the accumulation of wealth, which had so distinguished the elder man. He was ambitious of becoming a famous electrician and had already shown sufficient talent in this direction for his friends to anticipate great results from his efforts. He had a scheme now on hand which only needed the small capital which his father had promised him to become, as he believed, a practical reality. Indeed, negotiations had already been entered into for his entrance into a firm of enterprising men in Cleveland, where his energy would have full scope. All that he needed was the money which they required as a guaranty against failure, and this money, some five thousand dollars or so, had, as I have said, been promised to him, though not yet advanced, by his indulgent parent.
To sound that father’s mind on this and on the still dearer subject of his marriage, young Unwin had prevailed upon Polly to enter this house of sickness. At the door they were met by a sweet-faced lady, who took Polly in her arms before seating her in a little ante-room.
“I must ask you to remain here for just a few minutes,” said she. “It would be a shock to Mr. Unwin to see you without any preparation. Clarke will have a talk with his father first, and then come back for you. Let me hope it will be with a welcome that will make amends to you for your long years of orphanage among us.”
“You are very good,” came from the trembling lips of the young girl. Mrs. Unwin’s grace and unconscious dignity always abashed her.