"Will you kiss me in her name, my lassie? Ah! that's good; 'tis long since I kissed one of my own. Yes, I've come back. I never did die, you see, though I knew that the report had reached England. I let it be, I did not trouble to contradict it."
"But it was wrong of you, Uncle Sandy. You said you loved my mother, and that report of your death gave her terrible pain."
"I am sorry for it, lass; I never guessed about the pain, though I might have thought of it, sweet soul; but I knew she was married to a very rich man. I was poor, so poor as to know what hunger meant, I thought she could do without me. I went up into the bush and stayed there until I had made my fortune. After a time I got accustomed to knowing that every one in England would think me dead. I used to laugh in my sleeve at the surprise I meant to give Daisy when I walked in rich some day. Well, well, what an old fool I made of myself! I never once thought of her dying. She is dead, and I am left; there's no one to welcome me back, after all."
"She has been dead for over six years now; but come to the fire, uncle. I welcome you in my mother's name, and my children will love you. Now you must sit there and I will ring for Anne to bring in some tea."
After this the uncle and niece talked together for some time. Anne brought in the tea, and looked at them with eyes rendered round and large from excitement. They both nodded to her, for both felt pleased. Uncle Sandy had discovered that his niece had a voice like her mother, if not a face. It was delicious to him to sit so close to his own flesh and blood, and Charlotte, who had heard of Uncle Sandy during all her early days, who had seen her mother's eyes filling with tears when she mentioned him, felt now that for her mother's sake she could not make enough of this newly recovered relation. His rough, honest, kindly nature was finding its way too, very straight, to her heart. There was nothing innately common or vulgar about Uncle Sandy. Charlotte was a keen observer of character, and she detected the ring of the true metal within.
"To think I should have mistaken my uncle for some one going to see after the drawing-rooms!" she said after a pause.
"Ay, lass, you looked fairly dazed when I came up with my hand stretched out, hoping for a kiss," he said; "but no wonder: I never reckoned that that little maid-servant of yours would have told you nothing—nothing whatever. But what is that about drawing-rooms? You don't mean to tell me that you, Daisy Wilson's child, let lodgings?"
The color flew into Charlotte's pale, proud face.
"We do not need all the room in this house, so I generally have some one in the drawing-room," she answered—"the drawing-room and the bedroom beyond."
"Are your rooms free now, Charlotte?"