His face glowed with joy.
“And would you—would Mr. Heriton ever consent? Ah, madam, you say this to encourage me; but years of patient toil would scarcely place me on a footing with your heiress!”
The lady sighed heavily, and pressed her hands to her throbbing heart.
“There are many changes in life, and Florence may not be exempt from misfortunes. I have terrible misgivings. A few years, and Heaven only knows where my child may be!”
She spoke so low that Frank bent forward to hear her; and, raising herself, she laid her clasped hands in his.
“Frank Dormer,” she said, with solemn impressiveness, “I shall have gone to my grave long ere you turn your face homeward! I have faith in you—great faith. So much, that, were Florence older, I would thankfully see her yours. But I can do nothing. I have been weak and helpless all my life. I can only strive for strength to leave my dear ones to wiser guardianship than mine. But it will comfort me to hear you promise that, under any circumstances, you will protect and befriend my child if she needs it.”
“I promise it, on my soul, Mrs. Heriton,” the young man answered, reverently bending his head.
She murmured a blessing, and, seeing that the excitement was too much for her, he rang for her maid. It was their last earthly meeting, as she had predicted; but ere Frank quitted the priory at daybreak, a sealed packet was given to him. It contained a tiny miniature of Florence and her mother, and on the paper that enveloped it was faintly traced the word “Remember!”
Mr. Heriton also left the priory that day, on pretext of a little business to attend to at Morpeth; but his lady was not surprised to hear that he had been seen at the coach office when the coach was starting for London.
The railways had not then reached Northumberland, and Mrs. Heriton prepared herself for days of suspense, to be endured with what patience she could muster, before she could expect his return, or even a letter to explain the cause of his departure.