He leaned closer.
“To the pure all things are pure——”
The door-bell rung, and each gave a start,—a shade of disappointment clouding the brightness of their faces.
“Did you expect another visitor at this time?” asked Dyer.
“No,” replied Mrs. Weir, as she listened to the light steps of Adele on the stairs and moving along the passage to the door.
Both sat very still, hearkening. A low ejaculation of surprise escaped the lips of Adele. Then were heard the rustling of a woman’s garments, and the movement of feet.
Mr. Dyer and Mrs. Weir arose as the parlor-door was pushed open.
“Mrs. Fordham!” exclaimed the latter, as a tall woman in black entered with a slow, stately step, holding by the hand a shrinking little girl, who drew back in partial fear at the sight of strangers. Close behind them was Adele, her usually quiet face now alive with feeling, and her glance fixed with eager interest on the beautiful child. She reached out her hand and said,—
“Come, dear!”
But the woman reproved her with a look, and drew the little one closer.