A long time after those flowers had withered on Mille-fleurs' peaceful breast, Leighton said to me, with his hand on the head of his child:
"I shall never marry again, Outhwaite. To train this child up to be my pride as she is now my joy, will fill my life as full of happiness as is necessary to me now. And, Outhwaite, she is a quiet child,—" he stopped—I knew what thought had stayed him,—"a quiet and a loving child. Yesterday she sat for a full hour with her arms about my neck and her cheek pressed to mine, listening while I talked to her of things a child usually cares but little about. This is balm for many a hurt, Outhwaite, and if it is given to her mother to look down upon us two——"
A smile, the rarest I had ever seen, finished the sentence. Seeing it, and noting how it irradiated features which once bore the stamp of deepest melancholy, I could never again look upon Leighton Gillespie as an unhappy man.
FINIS
Works by Anna Katharine Green
I.—THE LEAVENWORTH CASE. A Lawyer's Story. 4to, paper, 20 cents; 16°, paper, 50 cents; cloth $1.25
"She has worked up a cause célèbre with a fertility of device and ingenuity of treatment hardly second to Wilkie Collins or Edgar Allan Poe."—Christian Union.
II.—BEHIND CLOSED DOORS. 16°, paper 50 cents; cloth $1.00
"... She has never succeeded better in baffling the reader."—Boston Christian Register.