“See, Uncle John,” cried Mrs. Dainty; “we have already taken this dear, good girl into our love and confidence. She shall be as our daughter.”
Mr. Fleetwood was taken by surprise. He stood still for a moment or two, half bewildered. Then, comprehending the scene, he advanced to Florence, and, drawing an arm around her, said, with much feeling,—
“The trial is over, dear child! There are no more rough paths for your tender feet.”
And he pressed his lips against her pure forehead. She could bear up under the weight of emotion no longer. Sobs convulsed her, and, as tears poured over her cheeks, she hid her face upon the old man’s breast and wept passionately. Even the worldly, calculating heart of Mrs. Dainty was touched, and Mr. Dainty drew his hand quickly across his eyes to dash away the blinding drops.
“I promised Madeline to return very soon.” Florence was the first to gain entire self-control. She spoke in a low but steady voice, as she looked up. “And now I must go back to her. I need not say that my heart is deeply touched by this unexpected occurrence. You offer more than I have any right to claim,—more than I desire. Let me still be to your children as in the beginning. I came as their teacher; I have learned to love them; I am sure that I can do them good.”
“The children’s teacher, and the mother’s friend!” said Mrs. Dainty, whose feelings were taking a higher tone. She saw herself in the right path, although by constraint, and felt that the way before her was easier to walk in than she had dared to hope.
“Yes,—the mother’s friend,” Mr. Fleetwood spoke slowly and with emphasis; “for none else is worthy to be the children’s instructor, companion, and guide.”
While he was yet speaking, Florence retired from the room.
“You have done well, Madeline,” added Mr. Fleetwood, as the door closed on Florence, “and better a great deal than I had reason to expect. In bending down to one like Miss Harper, and raising her up to the social level you occupy, there is no loss on your part, while the sphere of life in which you move gains largely by an accession of virtue, intelligence, refined taste, and womanly self-reliance. Depend upon it, Madeline, the benefit is largely in your favor. Florence will give more of good than she receives.”
“She is certainly a remarkable girl,” said Mr. Dainty. “In our late trouble she exhibited qualities that now excite my admiration. If our dear lost child had been her own sister, she could not have pursued the search with greater assiduity. We owe her more than we can ever repay.”