The beautiful girl stood up tall and straight, her face now shining with love and happiness.
“Then, since we are all in all to each other, why should we be discouraged—why grieve for what you have lost?” she cried in a voice that had a strange, exultant thrill in its sweetness. “Who cares for luxury, for society’s smile or frown, or to ride upon the topmost wave of prosperity? I do not, papa, truly, and, to be frank with you, I have long dreaded the time when you would expect me to take a prominent place in society. It all seems very hollow and unsatisfying to me, and, during the last four years, while I have been studying so hard, I have dreamed fond dreams of some time putting my knowledge to some practical use. Now, dearest, do not let us look back with a single regret—you are in the prime of life; I am young and strong. I have a good education and I know I can turn it to some account, so let us begin life together, find some cozy nook in which to make a simple home. I will apply at once for a position to teach—I have some fine vouchers from those Heidelberg professors, you know—and, after you have had time to pull yourself together a little, perhaps something in the way of business will commend itself to you.”
Mr. Heatherford had listened to his daughter with ever-increasing wonder, and when she concluded he regarded her with undisguised astonishment, mingled with admiration. It was a revelation and an inspiration to him to find the beautiful and delicately reared girl so thoroughly practical, so brave and unselfish, in view of what had seemed a most appalling situation, and he was also deeply moved.
“Mollie!” he tremulously exclaimed as he held out both hands to her, “what a dear little comforter you are! You are a veritable staff of pure and solid gold, and you have lifted a load from my heart that was well-nigh crushing me. I thought it would break your heart to give up our beautiful home in New York, our summer place in Newport, the horses and carriages, rich dresses, and the thousand and one pretty things which you have always been accustomed to. But you have proved yourself a noble-hearted heroine, and I am prouder of you than if you had been crowned a queen. Mollie, it seems incredible, but my heart has not been so light for many months. I am happy, in spite of all,” and the proud, long-tried man dropped his head upon his daughter’s shoulder, while a sob of infinite relief burst from his surcharged and grateful heart.
Mollie’s lovely eyes were swimming in tears, but she bravely blinked them away, while a clear and silvery laugh rippled over her red lips.
“Papa,” she said, while she softly smoothed the hair away from his temple, “do you remember that boy who saved the train from being wrecked near New Haven, four years ago, to whom you sent the check?”
“Yes, dear; but what makes you think of him at this time?” inquired Mr. Heatherford, and, looking up with sudden interest, for he had not thought of the incident for a long while.
Mollie flushed brightly as she replied:
“He does seem rather irrelevant to the subject, I know; but I remember that I thought he must have been the happiest fellow in the world to have been such a hero at that time. You know I have always been something of a worshiper of brave and noble deeds, and to be regarded as a ‘hero’ has been to set one on a pinnacle, in my estimation. And now you have called me a ‘heroine,’ and I am proud and happy, even though I have done nothing to deserve the praise except to speak a few comforting words to my own dear father.”