"How sweet of you to remember your poor, lonely child and call her to your side!"
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to be married, my dear?" was the practical question of the old lady.
"It was shyness on my part. I dared not obtrude my poor affairs on your attention until you should notice me in some way," she meekly replied, and then she gracefully slipped out of Mrs. Rockharrt's embrace and went and folded Cora to her bosom, murmuring:
"My own darling, how happy I am to meet you again! How lovely you are, my sweet angel!"
"Oh, why did you not write to me that you were going to be married? I should have so liked to have been your bridesmaid!" complained Cora.
"Sweetest sweet, if I had dreamed such honor and happiness were possible for me, I should have written and claimed them with pride and delight. But I dared not, my darling! I dared not. I was but a poor governess, without any claims to your remembrance, and should not now be with you had not the dear lady, your grandmamma, kindly recalled her poor dependant to mind and brought me into her circle."
"Oh, Rose, do not speak so! I should hate to hear even the poorest maid in our house speak so. You were never grandma's dependant, or anybody's dependant. You were one of the noble army whom I honor more than I do all the monarchs on earth," said Cora earnestly.
With remembrances and delightful chat the evening was wearing away, and it was time for the party to retire to rest.
Two days after this the Rockharrts, with Cora Haught and Mrs. Stillwater, left Baltimore for the North, en route for Canada and New Brunswick.