“And what did you answer?”
“I am seeking advice; give it me.”
“Any man may be a tradesman,” she said slowly. “Nine tenths of mankind can be or are doctors, lawyers, clergymen. The men who possess the skill, the sagacity, and the courage to do what you have done, what you can do again, are very few. To restore lost little ones; to reunite families; to bring criminals to justice, and to defeat injustice,—what occupation can be nobler! If I were such a detective as you, I would never cease to exercise my best gifts.”
“I never will,” he said, taking her hand in his.
“A man of your calling should have guessed that long ago!”—[page 461].
Months passed on; winter went and summer came. Walter Parks lingered in America, his society dearly valued by John Ainsworth and Mr. Follingsbee, his presence always a welcome one in Leslie’s dainty parlors, and at Warburton Place. Winnie, who had been a saucy sweetheart and piquant bride, had become a sweetly winsome wife. John Ainsworth was renewing his youth; and Leslie, having passed the period of her widowhood, once more opened her doors to society.
Richard Stanhope had become a frequent and welcome guest at Leslie’s home, and all his visits little Daisy appropriated at once to herself. Indeed she and Stanhope stood upon a wondrously confidential footing.
“Next month comes Mamma’s birthday,” said Daisy to him one day, when she sat upon his knee in Leslie’s pretty flower-decked room. “We’re going to have a festival, and give her lots of presents. Are you going to give her a present, Mr. Stanhope?”