She tried to answer him, but could not. Her heart was too overflowing with gratitude, happiness, hope.
They all seemed struggling for precedence in the words that should come from her lips, and she found herself unable to speak.
Her eyes filled, and she looked up as though imploring him to find in her face all that her lips failed to say. Then she sprang forward, and seizing his hand, pressed it to her lips.
He appeared to understand fully the cause of her silence and agitation,—to know and appreciate the emotions that rendered her dumb; and the lines of his face resumed their accustomed gravity as he withdrew his hand from her clasp and laid it gently upon the curly head so far beneath his own majestic height.
"God bless you, my daughter, and keep you—always!"
No father could have spoken more tenderly to his child; and the words came to Dorothy as a benediction from him who had so recently passed away.
Washington now addressed himself to Captain Southorn.
"You have in this child a priceless treasure," he said. "God grant that you ne'er forget the fact, nor the debt you owe her."
"I never will—I never can, sir," the young man answered with unmistakable sincerity, as he came and took his wife by the hand. "Of that, sir, you may rest assured," he added, in a voice shaking with strong emotion.
Washington bent his head in approval. "For the present," he continued, "I deem it proper that you remain as before. I purpose stopping here until afternoon, and will then have you taken to Cambridge, unless some unforeseen matter shall arise to alter my plans."