CHAPTER XXIII.
CONCLUSION.

FOUR years have come and gone, four very bright and happy years; and the good people of Arlingham are wont to say that things have never gone so well with them, that times have never seemed so smooth and prosperous, since the Squire’s sweet lady and her children lived at the Manor House and made the place bright and homelike with their presence.

Several minor changes have now taken place since Mr. and Mrs. Arbuthnot came to take possession of their house. Two little mites of children play now in the nurseries where Queenie once ruled supreme; and Bertie is never tired of watching the gambols and the antics of his tiny brother and sister, and, as he recounts to the Squire every detail of their wonderful performances, it is quite evident that he considers them the most remarkable children that ever lived.

When little Frank first began to try to “walk on his hind legs,” as the elder brother phrased it, Bertie’s admiration knew no bounds; and now that Winnie is beginning the same interesting process, his pride and delight in her is intense, and it is a pretty sight to see the boy out in the garden with the two little ones, carrying them about in his strong arms, and playing with them with a patience and good temper that never seems exhausted.

Bertie is still the Squire’s boy, and has never wavered in his allegiance to his adopted father. He follows him about like his shadow, is his companion on his every expedition, and no father and son could ever have been more deeply attached than is this elderly man to the son of his adoption, who now wears his name and is acknowledged as his heir.

Bertie is growing a tall, strong lad now, and has quite shaken off the childish delicacy that had given some anxiety at first. His open-air life has done wonders for him, and he is as active and agile as any of the boys who have in old days climbed the trees he climbs now, or jumped the hedges and ditches that intersect the fields round his home.

Yet with all this new strength and health, Bertie has never lost the reflective and thoughtful cast of mind that characterized him as a child, and his manner is always quiet and gentle, and marked, when he and the Squire are alone together, with a peculiar affection and respect.

The tie that binds those two together is very close and strong. It would be hard, perhaps, to define its nature; but it had bound together two lonely hearts in the days when each had been so desolate and isolated; and as time passed on, and they grew more and more to each other, the cord of love seemed to wind more closely and firmly about each heart.