“I hope you are well, mother?” the young man said, kissing her tenderly, and as the light fell on her face one saw features still handsome in spite of the silver hair that set off the blackness of her large eyes.
“Yes, I am well. And you, my dear son?” fondly; then she started in amaze: “Good gracious, Norman! where did you get that child?”
He would have laughed at her amazement if he had not been so perturbed by the exciting scene through which he had just passed. As it was, he sighed as he put Sweetheart gently down on a low ottoman.
“It is a child I saved from the wreck and brought home with me until I could find her friends, mother.”
“Oh, poor little one!” said the lady, tenderly. She sat down and held out her arms. “Come here, you little beauty, and let me kiss you.”
Sweetheart ran eagerly to her new friend and held up her rosebud mouth; then she climbed into the lady’s lap with childish confidence.
“Sweet’art so tired an’ s’eepy!” she sighed, dropping the curly head on that motherly breast.
“Poor little thing! she must be put to bed,” said Mrs. de Vere.
She undressed the weary, drowsy child and laid her gently down in her own bed. In a minute she was fast asleep.
“God bless you, dear little mother! Oh, what a relief this is to me!” exclaimed the young man.