“And your mother?” said Martin, striving to be calm. “Is she dead?”
“Yes,” said Floy, sorrowfully. “First, my father died, and we were left very poor. Then mother was obliged to work very hard, sewing; and finally she took a fever, and died, leaving me alone in the world. For a week, I wandered about without a home; but at last you took me in. I don’t know what would have become of me if you had not,” said she, gratefully.
“Floy,” said Martin, looking at her steadfastly, “do you know my name?”
“No,” said Floy. “I have often wondered what it was, but never liked to ask you.”
“Then,” said he, in an agitated tone, “you shall know now. I am Martin Kendrick, your GRANDFATHER!”
Floy was filled with amazement, but, after a moment, threw herself into his arms. “Will you forgive mother?” she asked.
“I will! I have! But, alas! she has much more to forgive me. Would that she were still alive!”
Every day, Martin Kendrick became more alive to the claims of affection. His miserly habits gave way, and he became more considerate in his dealings with his tenants. The old house, in which he lived so many years, was torn down; and he bought a neat cottage just out of the city, where he and Floy live happily together. Floy, who has been sent to school, exhibits uncommon talent, and is fitting for the station she will soon assume as the heiress of her grandfather.