"May I come with you?" he asked; but he followed her without permission, and so caught the child's first look of ecstasy.
"Oh, Mr. Garth, Mr. Garth!" was all she said, and then she nestled down contentedly in his strong arms, and laid her head on his shoulder, and the weak hands went up and stroked his face.
"You see I have come, dear Emmie," he said at last, very gently. "I have answered your letter in person. You were sure of me, were you not?"
"Yes, I was sure," she answered, doubtfully. "But last night I got unhappy, for I feared it would be too late. And now you are going to promise me to take care of Queenie?"
"Emmie, my dear one, hush!" exclaimed poor Queenie, for her cheeks were flaming at this.
"Let the child speak," he returned very quietly, but firmly; "we must not let her have anything on her mind. And she wrote to me, you know. Emmie has always had faith in me," with an intonation that made Queenie droop her head and be ashamed of her doubts.
"Yes; do let me speak, Queen; I have been so dreadfully unhappy, and I have not much breath for this odd catching in my throat. Mr. Garth, I am not wrong; you do love Queenie, do you not?"
"Yes, dearly," was the unexpected response, very gravely made.
"Oh, I am so glad!" trying to clap her hands in her old way; but they dropped heavily, and he caught them. "And you will promise me to take care of her, and try and make her happy all her life?"
"Yes, by God's help, and if she will have it so," in a low but very distinct tone. And now his hand sought hers, and kept it.