“Espy, is this kind? is it generous?” she said at length.
“Is what? I’m doing no mischief here,” he said, willfully misunderstanding her; but turning, and seeing the pained expression of her face, his better nature conquered. “No, Floy, darling, it is neither! it is shameful!” he cried, hurrying to her and taking both hands in his. “But the demon of jealousy has taken possession of me. I see now that it is that.”
“Jealousy! of whom?” she asked in surprise, but not repulsing him.
“Of—of your mother, brother, sisters,” he said, coloring with shame. “There! it is out; and what do you think of your lover now?”
“That he is—what shall I say? more fond than wise?” and she looked up brightly, the red lips smiling, the large, lustrous eyes a trifle misty.
“Let’s kiss and make up, as the children say,” he whispered, bending over her till his mustache came in suspiciously close proximity to her face.
“I haven’t been quarrelling,” she returned, with an arch smile.
They sat down side by side on a sofa.
“I have missed you, naughty boy,” she said, still playfully, “because I wanted somebody to tell my gladness to, if for no other reason. Oh, Espy!” and her tone changed to one of deep feeling, “I am so blest! I seem to have nothing more to ask for! I, who have been such a lonely waif, have now found not only the mother I have been so long almost hopelessly seeking (and such a dear, darling mother, too), but father, brother, sisters, and even grand-parents. Old Mr. and Mrs. Heywood were here this morning—they are the loveliest old couple!—and took me right to their hearts, bidding me call them grandpa and grandma, as my brother and sisters do.”