“Yes, dear uncle, and opened my eyes upon a beautiful scene! Ah! what a happiness it is to live in such a lovely place! How much I thank you for bringing us to such a heavenly place!” said Palma, taking and kissing the pale hand that he had laid in silent blessing on her head.
“How much I thank you for coming, dear child!”
“Thank us for coming into paradise?”
“Not paradise even in summer, when it is almost a Garden of Eden in the dip of the mountains! But I hope it will be a very happy home to you and yours. Remember that you are mistress here, of a house that has not had a mistress for more than thirty years, when my dear niece, your husband’s mother, married and left it.”
“No, but I am your servant, uncle—your servant and daughter, whose duty and delight will be to wait on you and minister to your comfort,” murmured Palma.
“Breakfast is ready, ma’am,” said Polly, the elderly negro woman, opening the parlor door.
“Come, my dear,” said Mr. Cleve, drawing Palma’s arm within his own and leading her to the room, where the table was waiting and a splendid fire was burning.
“Where is Mr. Stuart and Mrs. Pole?” inquired Palma, looking around.
“Go find them, Hatty,” ordered the master. But as he spoke Cleve entered the room by the side door and laughingly greeted his wife with the ironical question whether she was really “up for all day?”
“You should have waked me,” said Palma.