"And so it is. I don't want any reward," said Dora rather hastily.
"No: but, if young Ginniss had not discovered the identity of the child, my cousin would not have been unhappier than she has been for two years; and you-would you not be at this moment better content with life?"
Dora's clear eyes looked straight into his as she wonderingly asked,—
"Do you want me to say I am sorry Mrs. Legrange has found her child?"
"If it is true, yes; and I know you will," replied Mr. Burroughs quietly.
"And so I would," said Dora, in the same tone; "but it is not true. I am glad, not happy, but very glad, that Sunshine has come to her mother at last,—her heaven, as she calls it. I do not deny that my own heart is very sore, and that I cannot yet think of her not being my child any more, without"—
She turned away her head, and Mr. Burroughs looked at her yet more attentively than he had been looking.
"But, if you could, you would not go back, and arrange it that Teddy should not come to your house? Word and honor now, Dora."
"Word and honor, Mr. Burroughs, I surely would not. Can you doubt me?"
"No, Dora, I do not; but, in your place, I should doubt myself."