“Colonel Falconer would never permit you to have him,” she said.
“My husband has never refused a request of mine in our whole acquaintance,” cried Pansy impatiently.
“But he would refuse this,” said Mrs. Meade. “You will have some children of your own some time, Mrs. Falconer, then this poor little one would be thrust aside. No, no—I could not part with him, even to one who likes him as much as you do, dear lady.”
Pansy gazed at her with a grieved and baffled air. Her red under lip quivered and tears started to her beautiful eyes. For a moment she could not speak, so bitter was her disappointment; and Mrs. Meade folded up the tiny garments in an embarrassed fashion, ashamed of refusing the lady’s request, but feeling that she was acting for the best.
Suddenly a bright thought came to Pansy.
“Mrs. Meade, I see that you love Pet too well to give him up,” she said gently. “I don’t blame you, for I love him dearly myself. But couldn’t you come and be my housekeeper? Then I could see him every day.”
Mrs. Meade threw up her hands in dismay.
“Leave the Wyldes!” she cried. “Oh, my dear young lady, I’ve kept house for them these twenty-five years, and to leave them now would be like pulling up an old tree by the roots. I’m too old to be transplanted. I should die.”
Pansy clasped the child close to her aching heart with a cry of despair that she could not repress.
“Oh, my little darling, my little darling, I shall see you no more, then! Fate is too strong for us,” she cried.