"I wonder if I shall wake and find it a dream," she said, smiling up at him.
"It is better than any dream," he answered, bending over her.
"I have been so lonely,—it has been so long. I thought perhaps you had forgotten, and— I am sorry— Jack." It was the proud woman's surrender, and John Morrison was touched to the heart. Tears rose to his eyes.
"It was more my fault than yours, dear,—the years have taught me that, and I have often wished I could tell you so," he said.
Frances had stood an amazed spectator of this scene. What did it mean? Ought she to stay? It was plain she was forgotten. After a little she touched her father's arm, saying softly, "Daddy, I'm here, you know."
The plaintive tone recalled both her companions; her father drew her to his side, but before he could speak Mrs. Marvin took her hand.
"Frances darling, you will love me, won't you? You are my own little niece. The day when I first saw you in my library you reminded me of my dear Jack."
It was Mr. Morrison's turn to be surprised as his daughter impulsively threw her arms round the lady's neck, exclaiming, "I do love you, but I didn't know you knew father."
"And I didn't know you knew each other," he said.
"And I don't understand how you happened to come here," added his aunt.