The Squire’s face was very tender in its expression.
“Never mind the how or the why, my little man; let it be enough that it is so. Say, are you willing to help to fill the blank that has been left so long in my life?”
Bertie’s eyes were full of astonishment. Even now he half fancied himself dreaming.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“You can be a little son to me, if you will. You have no parents, and I have no children. Are you willing to call yourself my little boy?”
A great light came into Bertie’s face. He put his arms suddenly about the Squire’s neck and laid his cheek against that of his adopted father.
No more words were spoken, and none were needed. The compact was sealed without that. The strong man and the little child understood each other as by instinct, and the bond between them was metaphorically signed and sealed by the eloquent language of a few caresses.
Then the Squire stood up and took the child by the hand to lead him home.
They did not go for their walk after all. Time had run on, and the short daylight was beginning to wane. They took the nearest path home across the park, and, although hardly a word was spoken, Bertie felt as if a sudden new warmth and happiness had come into his life; his little heart was filled to overflowing with love and gratitude.
As they reached the garden, the Squire turned aside, and, still holding Bertie by the hand, led him to the well-known spot where the “children’s gardens” stood beneath the shelter of the sunny wall.