“Yes, ma’am.”
“I like the name. I had a child of that name once. Were she living, she would be about your age. But”—and the lady sighed deeply—“she disappeared one day, and we never could find any trace of her.”
Had Mrs. Gregory been an attentive observer, she would have seen a gleam of intelligence pass over the old man’s face at this moment; but she was too much absorbed by her sad thoughts.
“I think,” said she, after a pause, “that I will engage you, Helen, although you are rather young for my purpose. When can you come?”
“She is ready now,” said her grandfather. “I can send her the rest of her clothes.”
“Very well. Then you may come in, and take off your things.”
“Come, Helen, and give a parting kiss to your poor old grandfather. He will be very lonely without you, my dear child; but he knows that he has left you with a kind lady, who will care for you.”
Helen advanced to her grandfather’s embrace with very little alacrity. As he pressed his lips lightly to her cheek, he whispered, so that she only could hear,—
“Keep your eyes open;” and then added aloud, “Be a good girl, Helen, and mind the kind lady who has engaged you, in all respects. Remember all the lessons I have taught you; and do not forget,” he continued, with a meaning look, “what I told you before I came away.”
Helen replied faintly in the affirmative. Mrs. Gregory attributed her evident embarrassment to the fact that she was about to leave her only relative to go among strangers; and she resolved in her heart to lighten, as well as she might, the sorrow of the child.