Sir Edward, a grave, abstracted-looking man, with an iron-grey moustache and dark, piercing eyes, looked up with a desponding shake of the head, and repeated slowly and emphatically—­

“A widowed sister of mine died last year, and left her little girl in the charge of an old school friend, who has now taken a husband to herself and discarded the child, calmly sending me the following letter:—­

’Dear sir:  Doubtless you will remember that your sister’s great desire on her death-bed was that you should receive her little one and bring her up under your own eye, being her natural guardian and nearest relative.  Hearing, however, from you that you did not at that time feel equal to the responsibility, I came forward and volunteered to take her for a short while till you had made arrangements to receive her.  I have been expecting to hear from you for some time, and as I have promised my future husband to fix the day for our marriage some time early next month, I thought I could not do better than send the child with her nurse to you without delay.  She will reach you the day after you receive this letter.  Perhaps you will kindly send me word of her safe arrival.  Yours truly,
                           Anna Kent.’

Now, Lovell, what do you think of that?  And sure enough, this afternoon, while we were out, the child and nurse appeared, and are in the house at this present moment.  Don’t you think it a hard case for such a confirmed bachelor as I am?”

“I do indeed,” was the hearty reply; “but I think you will find a way out of it, Ned.  Take a wife unto yourself, and she will relieve you of all responsibility.”

There was a general laugh at this, but in the midst of it the door slowly opened, and the subject of all this discussion appeared on the threshold, a fragile little figure, with long, golden-brown hair, and a pair of dark brown eyes that looked calmly and searchingly in front of her.  Clad in white, with her dimpled hands crossed in front of her, she stood there for a moment in silence, then spoke:—­

“Where is my Uncle Edward?”

“Here,” replied Sir Edward, as he looked helplessly round, first at his friends and then at his small niece.

The child stepped up to him with perfect composure, and held out her little hand, which her uncle took, undergoing all the while a severe scrutiny from the pair of dark eyes fixed upon him.  There was dead silence in the room.  Sir Edward’s companions were delighting in the scene, and his great discomfiture only heightened their enjoyment.

“Well,” he said at length, rather feebly, “I think you know the look of me now, don’t you?  Where is your nurse?  Ought you not to be in your bed?  This is not the place for little girls, you know.”

“I was thinking you would kiss me,” and the child’s lips began to quiver, while a pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she glanced wistfully round, in the hope of seeing some sympathetic face near her.