"Yes," said Beryl, sadly; "she died when I was a baby; I never saw her."
"It was a great loss for you!" said Mrs. Despard, with a sigh, as her thoughts reverted to her own child. "And my poor little Coral too! She must soon lose her mother. Ah, who will care for her when I am gone?"
"I will take care of her," said Beryl boldly, for she seldom doubted her power to perform anything that she willed. "I mean to ask papa to let her live with us, and be my little sister. She is a dear little thing; I will always be good to her."
The pale, wasted face of the invalid flushed as she heard these words, which brought her a sudden gleam of hope.
"Would you indeed wish that?" she asked eagerly. "But no, it could not be; your father could not think of it."
"He would if I asked him," persisted Beryl, heedless of the fact that Lucy was frowning and putting her finger to her lips, as a sign that she considered Miss Beryl to be talking too fast. "At least, I am almost sure that he would; he generally does whatever I ask him."
Mrs. Despard said no more; but she seemed to be thinking of Beryl's words, for the flush lingered on her cheeks, and her eyes had a more hopeful look as she watched the two children.
When Lucy at last sent them from the room, Beryl left Coral to her own devices for a time, and went in search of her father.
Greatly to her satisfaction, she found him sitting alone in the library.
"Well, Beryl, what do you want?" he said as she entered. "Where is your little playfellow? Have you grown tired of her already?"