"He is exceedingly fond of Lily," observed Felix.
"That makes it all the more strange," said Old Wheels, with a thoughtful air; "and yet I should not say so. The child would win her way to any heart. It speaks well for him I am very glad to hear it. Exceedingly fond of Lily, you say!" He repeated these words, as if he wished to make some obscure thing clear to his understanding.
"I think he shows more tenderness towards her than towards his adopted daughter. It seems to me as if he feels that he cannot be considerate enough of her. That is Lily singing, is it not?"
"Yes, the dear child! She is more cheerful than she has been for a long time past."
Felix listened, with a pleased expression on his face, and the old man watched his attitude and manner with a curious mingling of hope and anxiety. Presently Felix resumed,
"I am doing nothing but flying off at tangents, and I have so much to say. About Mr. Musgrave: he and I have had confidential business together lately. Business, I hope, which will turn out well."
"Profitable?"
"Well, not in the common sense of the word; that is, it will not put money in my pocket; but it will do something better perhaps. You will hear of it, I daresay, very soon. Now, about Martha Day. Hers is a strange story. She has lived all her womanly life with my father, as his housekeeper, and has out of her savings brought Lizzie up, given her a tolerable education, and supplied her with money. My father, it appears, knew nothing of this; he supposed that Martha had no family ties. Lately, however, he has discovered her connection with Lizzie, and has discovered something else also. Lizzie, it appears, is not Martha's niece, as I understood: she is her daughter. The story that Martha tells of an early marriage and of being deserted by her husband, who enlisted and died in India, my father refuses to believe. He insisted that Martha should promise not to see Lizzie any more, and Martha indignantly left his service. She has been with him for a great many years, and she says that it suited her; that she was fit for nothing else, and that it supplied her with means to pay for Lizzie's early training. What memories, what fears, or what fanciful idea that Lizzie's future would be happier if she were brought up in the belief that Martha was her aunt, instead of her mother, neither you nor I can guess. The web of the simplest life seems to me to be made up of tangled skeins, and one of the highest duties of life consists in kindly judgment of each other. Martha's life has been one of sacrifice, and what joy and comfort she has experienced in it have come from this girl, for whom I have a great esteem."
"I too, Felix; Lizzie is a good girl."
"It sounds strange that so simple a circumstance should induce my father to part with a woman who must have been wonderfully useful to him; but I think I am to blame for the severance of that connection."