"Did you and my father know much of one another before he left England?" the simple-hearted girl asked, as she and Mrs. Tincroft sat under the fresh green foliage of a widespreading beech tree, which, like themselves, was rejoicing in the midday sunshine.
"Yes, my dear; we were cousins, you know, then, just as we are now. And we lived near one another, as I have told you. Didn't he ever say anything about—about old times—and me, to your mother, do you think?"
"Not that I ever heard of, dear; only about your being his cousin. But he didn't often talk about England, I think; for I remember my mother telling me, not very long ago—for it was just before my little baby brother was born—that she knew very little about father's relations."
"Ah, I daresay he was so happy then, dear Helen, that he did not care to remember that he hadn't always been happy. And, dear me! I can't think how it ever turned out that he could ever have thought of coming back, and of living in the same house and home with his naughty cousin."
"What do you mean, dear? You are not sorry we came back, and are living with you and Mr. Tincroft, are you?" asked Helen, in some consternation.
"Oh no, no; I am so glad, so very glad. It is so good of him, and of you too, my dear. I never was so happy in all my life as I am now," said Sarah.
And then there was a renewal of embracing, and more kisses, and a few tears, all of which, though very pleasant to the young girl, at least as far as the embraces and kisses went, slightly puzzled her; and the tears—what did they mean? And what did her dear friend mean by calling herself her father's "naughty cousin"?
"I made your father very unhappy once," continued Sarah, presently, in a whisper, when they had settled themselves down again quietly on the grassy bank under the beech tree. "It was I that drove him away from his home, I am afraid, dear Helen."
"Dear! Dear! So good and kind as you are! How could you?"
"I am afraid I used him badly, my dear, without intending; but I was young and thoughtless, and liked to have my games, as silly children do. You know, or you don't know, but I may tell you now, we were engaged to be married, my cousin Walter and I, and should have been, no doubt, only I was so foolish as to make-believe that I was pleased to have another—another lover coming after me. I did not think what I was doing, and I didn't mean anything wrong, dear; and perhaps that's why it all turned out for the best, as it did."