“I have no other desire!” was the tearful answer.
Dusky Night was beginning to weave her web of darkness. Shadows were gathering in the rooms: the stillness of twilight came stealing down upon sense and feeling. Half an hour later, and the family were gathered at the tea-table. There were Mr. and Mrs. Dainty, Uncle John Fleetwood, Agnes, Madeline, and George.
“What will you have, dear?” said Mr. Dainty, looking toward Madeline, after he had helped Uncle John and his oldest daughter, Agnes.
“I don’t want any thing,” she answered, her face slightly reddening as she spoke, and her eyes turning toward the door, as if she were expecting some one.
“This toast looks very nice, Maddy. Let me give you a piece?” Mr. Dainty spoke with gentle persuasion.
“Can’t I eat with Miss Harper?” And Madeline pushed her chair a little way back from the table.
Mrs. Dainty’s eyes met those of her husband. Her face grew troubled and irresolute; his evinced a puzzled state of mind. Uncle John looked at his niece, and mutely signed for her to say yes.
“If you prefer doing so,” answered Mrs. Dainty, replying to Madeline. “But I would rather have you take tea with us.”
Consent and objection at the same time only tended to push the child’s mind further away from an even balance. She had stepped back from the table with a light motion as consent passed her mother’s lips, but stood suddenly still, with a clouded face, at the objection.
“Run along, dear,” said Uncle John, in a cheerful voice. “Mother says yes.”