While the long conversation, so full of moment to Daph, was taking place, Mary Ray had kept the children happy in the little garden. Their patience at last gave way, and they pleaded so hard “Just to look at dear Daffy,” that their young nurse could resist them no longer.
Charlie burst impetuously into the room, unmindful of the stranger, while Louise more timidly followed. Warm tears filled the eyes of Rose Stuyvesant as she looked, for the first time, on the orphans. Charlie saw immediately the happy change that had passed over Daph’s face, and walking straight up to her, he said exultingly “Daffy’s better! Daffy’s better! Good Daffy!” and he laid his curly head on her dark arm which told how dearly she was beloved.
A peculiar attraction seemed to draw Louise to the side of the stranger, and when she was tenderly kissed, and that sweet, soft, face bent down to hers, with loving interest, the child put her head on the bosom of Rose Stuyvesant, clung to her neck and sobbed as if her heart would break.
“It is not mamma!” murmured the child; and then more and more fondly embraced one, who had brought back from the dim recesses of memory, the image of her long-lost mother.
Rose was but little less moved than the child, and in her heart she prayed that she might give to the little one such lessons in holiness, as would win an approving smile, were they heard by that mother in heaven.
By degrees, the agitation of little Louise subsided, but she quietly kept her seat on the lap of her new friend, and seemed to find a new pleasure in looking into her kind face and smoothing her fair, soft hand.
Meanwhile, Daph drew from her pocket a parcel, which she had ever carried about her, perhaps with the vague idea that it had some talismanic charm to keep her from evil. Wrapper after wrapper was taken off, until at last the little book with golden clasps appeared.
“That was all about Him, I know,” said Daph, “about that good Saviour, but Daph can’t read the blessed book.”
Rose took the Bible that was handed to her and read on the fly-leaf, “Elize Latourette, from her devoted husband. One Lord, one faith, one baptism!”
The sight of that book in the hands of Rose, again awoke the dim memories of the child on her knee, and Louise, through fresh tears, was doubly drawn towards her new friend.