"And have you no knowledge of your own parents?" Mr. Raymond inquired.
"Not the slightest. The only clews I possess are some letters in my mother's handwriting and the name Belle that she signed to him. Strange as it may seem, there is not a surname nor any reference made to the locality where she lived in her youth, to aid me in my search for her relatives."
"That seems very singular," said the gentleman, musingly.
"It is not only that, but it is also very trying," Edith returned. "Of course, my mother is dead; my father"—this with a proud uplifting of her pretty head—"I have no desire even to look upon his face. I could never own the relationship, even should we meet; but I would like to know something about my mother's family, for, as far as I know, I have—like yourself—not a relative in the world."
"Then pray, Miss Edith, for the sake of that other Edith whom I loved, regard me, while I live, as your stanch, true friend," said Mr. Raymond, earnestly. "The fact that you were the child of Edith Allandale only by adoption will make no difference in my plans for you. To all intents and purposes you were her daughter—she loved you as such—you were faithful and tender toward her until the end; therefore I shall settle the half of my property upon you for your immediate use. I beg that you will feel no delicacy in accepting this provision for your future," he interposed, appealingly, as he remarked her heightened color. "Mr. Bryant had full instructions to carry out my wishes, and the money would have been yours unconditionally, had I never been so happy as to meet you. The only favor I ask of you in return is the privilege of seeing you occasionally, to talk with you of your mother."
The tears rolled thick and fast over the young girl's face at this appeal, for she was deeply touched by the man's tender regard for her interests, and by his yearning to be in sympathy with one who had known so intimately the one love of his life.
"You are very kind," she said, when she could command her voice sufficiently to speak. "I have no words adequate to thank you, and it will be only a delight to me to tell you anything you may wish to know about her who was so dear to us both. I could never tire of talking of mamma. More than this, I trust you will allow me to be of some comfort to you," she added, earnestly. "When you are lonely or ill I shall be glad to minister to you in any way that I may be able."
"It is very thoughtful of you, Miss Edith, to suggest anything of the kind," Louis Raymond responded, his wan face lighting with pleasure at her words, "and no doubt I shall be glad to avail myself now and then of your kindness; but we will talk of that at another time."
He arose as he concluded, and, opening the door leading into the outer office, requested Mr. Bryant to join them, when the conversation became general.
Later that same day, at Mr. Raymond's desire, the papers were drawn up that made Edith the mistress of a snug little fortune in her own right, the income from which would insure her every comfort during the remainder of her life.