The housekeeper, more grateful for the kindly feeling than for the present itself, as she had no intention of dragging down her ears with these rings, fastened the pin in her dress.
"Really, you are too kind," she said. "These earrings and this pin, especially, are in perfect taste, and as we live so near the sea the selection of a pin surmounted with an anchor is extremely appropriate. But here, M. Traveller," continued Suzanne, taking the red worsted comforter she had been knitting from the table, "you see you are not the only person who thinks of the absent."
"What, Suzanne, this comforter—"
"Is intended to keep you warm and comfortable in the winter."
"Ah, Suzanne, Suzanne, I shall never forget—"
But Segoffin's protestations of gratitude were, unfortunately, interrupted by the entrance of M. Cloarek and his daughter, arm in arm.
Yvon, who was now forty-two years of age, had changed very little in appearance. His hair was beginning to turn gray, and his skin was much sunburned; but he seemed to have gained in strength and vigour, his face was radiant, and his eyes were full of joyful tears.
"Come and let me take a good look at you, my child," he exclaimed, as he led his daughter to the light, and gazed at her with anxious tenderness, as if to satisfy himself that the health of this idolised child had improved since they parted; then, again enfolding her tenderly in his arms, he added:
"Ah, my beloved child, I can embrace you with a thankful heart, for I can see that you are much stronger than when I went away."
Then, addressing Dame Roberts for the first time, he said, with a friendly shake of the hand: