"O, where—how did he find her?" asked the lady impatiently. "Tell me everything about her—Is she well?—What is she like?—Is her hair fair or dark?" These and some half-dozen other questions were asked so rapidly, that it was quite impossible for her husband to answer one of them.
But by degrees, all that Mr. Mansfield had said concerning Milly was communicated, and she grew more calm.
A few hours afterwards, when the husband and wife were again talking of the strange tidings that had reached them—tidings so joyful, that at present nothing else could be thought of or talked about—Major Ferrers suddenly said, "I think my cousin must be greatly changed since I saw him."
"Why, what makes you think that?" asked his wife.
"Well, the way in which he has acted in this affair. He was rather selfish when a boy; in fact, it was that and my provoking temper that led to our last quarrel. But I seem to see somehow in this letter he has written about Milly, that he is acting altogether unselfishly. It is plain that he loves the child very much; for in one place he says that he fears she may be ours."
"He may love her," said the lady, "but he must think that her parents would love her more."
"Well, I don't know; he speaks of leading a lonely bachelor life, and if this is so, and he has become attached to the child, he must feel almost as a father would towards her by this time."
"But he does not refuse to give her up, does he?" asked the lady in a tone of alarm.
"O no; he would not do that, it is not likely. But what I was going to say is, that he will feel parting with her very much, I am afraid."
"Nevertheless, we have the right to take our own child," protested the lady.