“Then I will think the matter over. I will send for Mr. M’Kinlay to-morrow, and doubtless he will make some communication to me.” “But do not forget, Sir, that you must not betray me.” “I will take care of that, Kate; but come, my dear child, bathe these eyes of yours, and come into the air. They will wonder, besides, if they do not see you. Let us go and find them. Your heart may be at rest, now. Is it not so?”
“I have your promise, Sir?”
“You have, child.”
“Oh! am I not happy again!” said she, throwing back her long hair upon her neck, and turning towards him her eyes beaming with gratitude, and bright with triumph. “I have spent two nights of misery, but they are well repaid by the joy I feel now.”
“There. You look like yourself already,” said he. “Come, and we’ll search for them.”
“What am I thinking of!” cried she, suddenly. “I was forgetting these;” and she unclasped the necklace, and took off the brooch, depositing them carefully in their places.
“You shall wear them again one of these days, Kate,” said he, with a look of pensive meaning.
“They only served me to build castles with,” said she, gaily, “and the words you have spoken will help me to raise much finer ones. I am ready now, Sir.”
“Of all the days of your life,” whispered Ada to Kate, as they drove home that evening, “was this the happiest?”
“It was,” said the other, thoughtfully.