Miss Starbrow frowned a little and turned her face aside. Then she said:
“Just because I fed and dressed and sheltered you, Fan—does happiness come so easily to you?”
“Oh no, ma'am, not that—it isn't that,” with such keen distress that she could scarcely speak without a sob.
“How then have I made you happy? Will you not answer me? I took you because I believed that you would trust me, and always speak openly from your heart, and hide nothing.”
“Oh, ma'am, I'm afraid to say it. I was so happy because I thought—because—” and here she sunk her voice to a trembling whisper—“I thought that you loved me.”
Miss Starbrow put her arm round the girl's waist and drew her against her knees.
“Your instinct was not at fault, Fan,” she said in a caressing tone. “I do love you, and loved you when I saw you in your rags, and it pained my heart when I told you to clean my doorsteps as if you had been my sister. No, not a sister, but something better and sweeter; my sisters I do not love at all. And do you know now what I meant, Fan, when I said that there was something you could do for me?”
“I think I know,” returned Fan, still troubled in her mind and anxious. “It was that made me feel so happy. I thought—that you wanted me to love you.”
“You are right, my dear girl; I think that I made no mistake when I took you in.”
On that evening Fan had tea with her mistress, and afterwards, earlier than usual, was allowed to comb her hair out—a task which gave her the greatest delight. Miss Starbrow then put on an evening dress, which Fan now saw for the first time, and was filled with wonder at its richness and beauty. It was of saffron-coloured silk, trimmed with black lace; but she wore no ornaments with it, except gold bracelets on her round shapely arms.