"Come, why do you linger?"
"I thought, Florry, you might wish to see him alone; perhaps he would prefer it."
"Mary, you have identified yourself with us. To my father we must be as one." She extended her hand, and the next moment they stood in the reception-room.
The father and uncle were standing with folded arms, looking down into the muddy street below. He advanced to meet them, holding out a hand to each. Florence pressed her lips to the one she held, and exclaimed,
"My dear father, how glad I am to see you!"
"Glad to see me! You did not receive my letters then?"
"Yes, I did, but are their contents and pleasure at meeting you incompatible?"
He made no reply, and then Mary said, in a low, tremulous tone,
"Uncle, you have done me a great injury, and you must make me all the reparation in your power. You said, in your letter to Florry, that you did not think I would wish to go with you. Oh, uncle! you do not, cannot believe me so ungrateful, so devoid of love as to wish, under any circumstances, to be separated from you. Now ease my heart, and say I may share your new home. I should be very miserable away from you."
An expression of pleasure passed over his face, but again the brow darkened.