"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.