"Fleda tells me you are a changed man since that time?"
He answered only by a slight and grave bow.
"Mr. Carleton," said the old lady "I am a dying woman and this child is the dearest thing in the world to me after my own and hardly after him. Will you pardon me will you bear with me, if, that I may die in peace, I say, Sir, what else it would not become me to say? and it is for her sake."
"Speak to me freely as you would to her," he said, with a look that gave her full permission.
Fleda had drawn close and hid her face in her aunt's neck. Aunt Miriam's hand moved fondly over her cheek and brow for a minute or two in silence; her eye resting there too.
"Mr. Carleton, this child is to belong to you how will you guide her?"
"By the gentlest paths," he said, with a smile.
A whispered remonstrance from Fleda to her aunt had no effect.
"Will her best interests be safe in your hands?"
"How shall I resolve you of that, Mrs. Plumfield?" he said, gravely.