Mr. Tredick, having accomplished his mission by breaking the good news to Madame Le Conte and ushering Floy into her presence, quietly withdrew, and, leaving a message with Mary to the intent that he would call again the next morning, returned to his office.

This was a memorable day in Floy’s life, the turning of a new page in her history.

Mary was presently despatched with a note to Mrs. Sharp briefly stating the facts, and with orders to bring away the few effects of the young girl which were there.

The news created a great sensation in the Sharp household, as Mary duly reported on her return, telling her story in a way which showed that she had keenly enjoyed her part in the scene, and that she was delighted to know that our heroine was no longer a mere transient sojourner in the Madame’s house.

Floy, in her capacity of dressmaker, had won golden opinions from the servants, and both were scarcely less pleased than astonished at the strange turn affairs had taken.

“It’s perfectly amazin’, as I told ’em down there,” said Mary in conclusion. “Who’d have thought that day you came here, lookin’ so sweet and sad in your black dress, to make that new gownd for the Madame, that you’d more real right in the house than any of us except the Madame herself!”

“I hope she will never need to look so sad again,” said Madame Le Conte, gazing with fond pride at the pretty face of her niece. “My dear, would you be willing to lay off your mourning now for my sake?”

The request caused such a flood of sad and tender memories that for a moment Floy was utterly unable to speak.

“I long to see you dressed as your mother used to be at your age,” the Madame went on. “She usually wore white gowns with pink or blue ribbons, and it was sweetly becoming.”

Floy conquered herself with a strong effort.

“I will, Aunt Nannette; I would do more than that to give you pleasure,” she said, with a winning smile, though tears trembled in her eyes and a bright drop rolled down her cheek as she spoke.

Madame Le Conte saw it, and appreciated the sacrifice.

“Dear child!” she said, “I see you are going to be a great comfort to me. I am no longer alone in the world, thank fortune! nor are you. It was a happy chance that brought us together at last, wasn’t it, dear?”

“A kind Providence, aunt,” Floy responded in cheerful tones, “and I am very glad and thankful to know that I have at least one living relative in the world. And a good home,” she added, with a bright smile. “I have not been cast adrift for a year without learning the value of that.”

It was a double house, and Floy had been already assigned a suite of spacious, elegantly-furnished apartments on the opposite side of the hall from the Madame’s own, and also told that she was to be joint mistress with her aunt, take the oversight of the domestic affairs, order what she pleased for her meals, and make free use of domestics, carriage and horses, the grand piano in the parlor, the library—in short, everything belonging to the establishment.

Floy was touched by this kindness and generosity of her aunt, and felt that she might well be willing to make some sacrifices to confer pleasure in return. This feeling was increased tenfold by the occurrences of the next day.

Mr. Tredick called according to appointment, was for a short time closeted with the Madame in her boudoir; then Floy was summoned to join them, when, to her amazement, she learned that her aunt had made over to her property in bonds, stocks, and mortgages to the amount of one hundred thousand dollars.

The girl’s first impulse was to return it with the idea that Madame Le Conte was impoverishing herself, and forgetful that other heirs might yet be found. Grateful tears filled her eyes; she was too much overcome to speak for a moment.

“It is a very generous gift,” the lawyer said, looking at her in surprise at her silence.

“Generous? it is far too much!” Floy burst out, finding her voice. “Dear aunt, what have you left for yourself? and have you not forgotten that my mother may be living and may have children by her second husband, who will be quite as nearly related to you as I?”

“No, child, take it. I have plenty left for myself and them,” the Madame answered, with a pleased laugh.

“That is quite true, my dear young lady,” remarked Mr. Tredick; “for though I consider this a generous gift for Madame Le Conte to bestow during her lifetime, it is not one fifth of what she is worth.”

Floy rose hastily and came to the side of her aunt’s easy chair.

“Ah, little one! are you satisfied now to take and enjoy it?” the Madame asked, touching the fair young cheek caressingly as the girl bent over her with features working with emotion.

It was not so much the abundant wealth so suddenly showered upon her as the affection she saw in the act of its bestowal which overcame Floy, so sweet was love to the lonely heart that for a year past had known so dreary a dearth of it.

“I will, dear auntie,” she said, smiling through her fast-falling tears. “But what return can I make for all your generous kindness?”

“My generous kindness!” the Madame repeated in a tone of contempt; then at some sad memory a look of keen distress swept over her face, and her voice grew low and husky. “It is a small atonement for the past,” she said, “the past that can never be recalled!”

Mr. Tredick was busied with some legal document, and seemed quite oblivious of what was passing between the ladies. Presently he folded the paper up, handed it, with several others, to Floy with the smiling injunction to keep them carefully, inquired of the Madame if she had any further commands for him, and, receiving a reply in the negative, bowed himself out.

As the door closed on her solicitor, the Madame lifted a tiny silver bell from the table at her side and tapped it lightly.

“The carriage waits, ladies,” said Mary, appearing in answer.

“Then we will go at once,” returned her mistress. “Pansy, my dear, put on your hat.”

A heavy rain during the night had wrought a sudden and delightful change in the temperature of the atmosphere; light clouds still partially obscured the sun, and a fresh breeze was blowing from the lake. The ladies had voted it a fine day for shopping, and decided to avail themselves of it for that purpose.

A few moments later they were bowling rapidly along toward the business part of the city in the Madame’s elegant, easily-rolling, softly-cushioned carriage, drawn by a pair of handsome, spirited grays, the pride of Rory’s heart.

They returned some hours after laden with great store of costly and beautiful things which Madame Le Conte had insisted upon heaping on her niece.

There were several ready-made dresses, and in one of these Floy made her appearance at the tea-table spread for herself and aunt in the boudoir of the latter.

The robe was white; a fine French muslin, trimmed with beautiful lace. Floy had fastened it at the throat with a pale pink rose, and placed another among the glossy braids of her dark brown hair.

“Ah, how lovely you look, my darling!” the Madame exclaimed, gazing upon her in delighted admiration. Then, the tears springing to her eyes, “I could almost believe that my little Pansy of other days stands before me,” she said.

While they were at the table her eyes continually sought her niece’s face, and when they left it she called for her jewel-box, saying, “You must let me add something to your attire, Pansy.”

The Madame had a great fondness for gold and precious stones, and Floy’s eyes opened wide in astonishment and admiration at the store of diamonds, pearls, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and sapphires, adorning brooches, ear-rings, finger-rings, chains, and necklaces shortly spread before her.

“Have I not a fine collection?” asked their owner, gloating over them with intense satisfaction. “Take your choice, Pansy; take any or all you want; they will probably all belong to you some day.”

“Oh, thank you! I should be astonished at such an offer, auntie, had you not already shown yourself so wonderfully generous,” said Floy, coloring with pleasure. “But am I not too young to wear such things?”

“Not pearls, at all events,” said the Madame, throwing a beautiful necklace, composed of several strands of very large and fine ones, about the young girl’s neck, then adding bracelets, brooch, and ear-rings to match.

“Oh, auntie, what a present! they are too lovely for anything!” cried Floy in delight.

“This, too, you must have,” said the Madame, putting a jewel-case into her hand.

Floy opened it with eager curiosity. It contained a gold chain and a tiny gold watch, both ornamented with pearls.

“Do you like it?” asked the Madame.

“Like it!” cried Floy; “I am charmed with it! I have always wanted a watch, but never had one. My dear adopted father had promised me one on my eighteenth birthday, but I was all alone in the world before that came,” she added, her voice sinking low and trembling with emotion.