Mr. Sylvester had not expected this, as indeed how could he, and for a moment he could only gaze with a certain swelling of the heart at the blooming loveliness that in one instant had transformed the odd little parlor into a bower fit for the habitation of princes. But soon his natural self-possession returned, and rising with his most courteous bow, he greeted the blushing girl with words of simple welcome.
Instantly her eyes which had been hitherto kept bent upon the floor flashed upward to his face and a smile full of the wonder of an unlooked for, almost unhoped for delight, swept radiantly over her lips, and he saw with deep and sudden satisfaction that the hour which had made such an impression upon him, had not been forgotten by her; that his voice had recalled what his face failed to do, and that he was recognized.
“It is Mr. Sylvester, your cousin Ona’s husband,” Miss Belinda interposed in a matter-of-fact way, evidently attributing the emotion of the child to her astonishment at the imposing appearance of their guest.
“And it was you who married Ona!” she involuntarily murmured, blushing the next moment at this simple utterance of her thoughts.
“Yes, dear child,” Mr. Sylvester hastened to say. “And so you remember me?” he presently added, smiling down upon her with a sense of new life that for the moment made every care and anxiety shrink into the background.
“Yes,” she simply returned, taking the chair beside him with the unconscious grace of perfect self-forgetfulness. “It was the first time I had found anyone to listen to my childish enthusiasms; it is natural such kindness should make its impression.”
“Little Paula and I met long ago,” quoth Mr. Sylvester turning to the somewhat astonished Miss Belinda. “It was before my marriage and she was then—”