Phemie looked at the father, who had heard his child’s words—looked at him—and as Basil stretched out his hands, rose and gave him his daughter.
“Fay! Fay!” he cried, sobbing like a woman; and he took the little creature to his heart, who nestled there.
CHAPTER XI.
CONFESSIONS.
The months went by, and there were changes at Roundwood; such changes as Phemie had prophesied. If Major Morrice’s wooing was long, his wedding was speedy; and early in the ensuing year he took his wife to her new abode.
Was Olivia Derno forgotten? you ask, and I answer No; but the man had his life to live though she was dead, and he felt it no slight on her memory to marry one who had known and loved her.
It was a very good match for Helen. “Very wonderful,” said Mrs. Keller, with her nose in the air, “for a poor farmer’s daughter.”
“Never mind, Mrs. Keller,” observed Phemie, with that terrible knack of reading people’s thoughts which her relative had noticed on the occasion of her first visit. “Major Morrice would have been almost too old a husband for any of your girls, and we will see what we can do for them yet. I think I have been a rather successful match-maker.”
At this Mrs. Keller bridled, and wondered what Mrs. Stondon was talking about.
“About your daughters,” answered Phemie quietly. “You do not want them to live single all their lives, I suppose; and if eligible husbands offer, you will not say them nay. Had I daughters, I should give them every opportunity of falling in love I could devise——”
“My dear Mrs. Stondon!”