A gentleman, of perhaps forty-five, looked up from the desk where he
had been writing, as he uttered this request; but his voice trembled
slightly, and was replete with tenderness, as he spoke the name which
heads this chapter.

The girl whom he addressed was sitting by a window on the opposite side
of the room, and she lifted her bright brown head and turned a pair of
dark, liquid eyes upon the speaker.

"Yes, Uncle Walter," she cheerfully responded, as, laying down her book,
she arose and moved gracefully across the room toward the handsome,
aristocratic-looking man at the desk, who watched her every motion with
a fond intentness that betrayed a deep and absorbing affection for her.

He frowned slightly, however, as she spoke, and a half-bitter,
half-scornful smile curled his finely chiseled lips for an instant.

The young girl was tall and exquisitely formed, but her face was one not
easily described. Her features were delicate and clearly defined, yet
with a certain roundness about them such as one sees in a faultlessly
sculptured statue, while unusual strength of character was written
indelibly upon them. Her hair was slightly curly, and arranged with a
careful carelessness that was very becoming, while here and there a stray
ringlet, that had escaped the silver pin that confined it, seemed to
coquet with the delicate fairness of her neck and brow.

Reaching her uncle's side, she laid one white hand upon his shoulder,
then slid it softly about his neck.