"Uncle! uncle! am I not your child by adoption? Have you not loved and cared for me during long years? Oh! what do I care for wealth--for what you call a high position in the world? You and Florry are my world." She threw her arms about his neck, and sobbed, "Take me! oh, take me with you!"
"If you so earnestly desire it, you shall indeed go with us, my Mary." And, for the first time in her life, he imprinted a kiss on her brow.
When he departed, it was with a promise to call for them the next morning, that they might make, with their aunt, some necessary purchases, and remove to a hotel near the river.
Everything was packed the ensuing day, when Mary suddenly remembered that her books were still in the recitation-room, and would have gone for them, but Florence said, "I will bring up the books, Mary; you are tired and pale with bending so long over that trunk." And accordingly she went.
Mary threw herself on the couch to rest a moment, and fell into a reverie of some length, unheeding the flying minutes, when she recollected that Florence had been absent a long time, and rising, was about to seek her; just then her cousin entered. A change had come over her countenance--peace, quiet, happiness reigned supreme. One hour later, and they had gone from Madame ----'s, never to return again.