“Let the past be forgotten,” answered Florence. “All are liable to misconception. I was faithful to your children; and I will be so again.”
Then, whispering into the ears of Mrs. Dainty, she added,—
“I fear we are exciting Madeline beyond what is prudent.”
“You are right,” answered the mother. “We are forgetting ourselves.”
Madeline was still on the bed. Gently disengaging the arms that were around her neck, Florence looked smilingly into the face of Madeline, and said, in a cheerful tone,—
“Come, Maddy dear! you’re wide enough awake now, after a long sleep.”
“How long have I been asleep?” the child asked, curiously, glancing, as she spoke, toward the windows. “Is it morning?”
“No: the day is nearly done. It lacks scarcely an hour to sunset.”
“Is it so late?” Madeline looked serious, and her face passed from transient light into shadow.
“Yes. You have slept a long time. But come, dear, you must get dressed for tea.”