Madam’s eyes were full of tears now, but Editha did not see them, and went on:
“I will gladly tell you all about my sad trouble, only I would not like to weary you.”
“It will not weary me, dear.”
And so Editha, won more and more by this beautiful woman’s sweetness and gentleness, poured into her sympathizing ear all her story, beginning with the time Earle had come a poor boy into her uncle’s employ, and ending with their final separation when they were told that they were both children of one father.
“It is a very strange, sad history,” madam said, when she had finished; “but the facts of the case are so very evident that there can be no way of disputing them; and this uncle of yours, what a noble man he was.”
“Yes; he was mamma’s brother, and a dear, dear uncle. Oh! if he could but have lived,” Editha sighed.
“My dear, he could not have prevented this.”
“No; but he would have comforted me as no other could have done.”
“You were every fond of him, then?”
“Yes; I believe I loved him better than any one in the world. That does not seem just right to say, perhaps, when papa and mamma were living, but he was always so sympathizing and tender with me. He would always listen patiently and with interest to all my little trials, and sympathize with me when everybody else laughed at them as trifles.”