“O, you darling mother!” she cried, “I don’t believe God’s angels are any sweeter than you.”

When Roberta and old Squire reached the house where they had been told Colonel Marsden was lying sick they saw an officer sitting in the front room, writing busily by a table.  He looked up as they entered, startled by the vision of childish beauty before him.  Roberta’s scarlet hood, edged with swansdown, was pushed back, and her hair lay in fluffy golden rings on her white forehead.  Her cloak, the color of her hood, was bordered with the same snowy, feathery trimming.  She carried in her hand a tiny, swansdown muff.  The rich blood of health mantled her cheek.  Her eyes were like stars.  Where had he seen them before, those wondrously beautiful eyes?

In person and manner Roberta was like her mother, but her features were her father’s.  A little aristocrat she was, from the poise of her golden head to the tip of her prunella boots.

“Well,” said the officer, laying down his pen, “what can I do for you, little lady?”

The child turned to Squire, who came forward and stood in embarrassed silence, uneasily shifting his position from one foot to the other.  He had been advised by saucy Polly “not ter skeer fo’ks ter def by de way he dun his face,” and he was a little out of his moorings.  But finally he managed to say: 

“It’s Mars Robert Marsden, sah, dat me and Lil Missus wan’er see.”

“Well, who is Lil Missus? and what is she to Colonel Marsden?”

His admiring gaze was directed again to the child.

“Shee’s his own flesh en blood, sah; nuffin’ shorter; hees lil gal dat wuz born’d arfter he wen’ back ter N’ark.”

“Whew,” whistled the officer; “I didn’t know Colonel Marsden was a family man.  That accounts for many things, I have always thought peculiar in a man of his attractive personality.  Well, I am sure I envy him his newly found daughter.  Wait here a little, and I will see if the Colonel is awake.  He is convalescent now, and will doubtless be glad to see you both.”

He returned in a moment and said, “Colonel Marsden is asleep, and I thought best not to awaken him; but you shall see him,” he said to Roberta, “just as soon as he awakes.”

The child could not repress her eagerness.

“I can’t wait,” she cried; “I want to see him so bad.  Let me go in and look at him while he is asleep.  I won’t make any noise.  That’s the way I do mamma when she has headache.”

“Well,” said the officer, smiling, “go right in.”

Squire started to follow.

“No; you wait outside.  Two at once might make him a little nervous.  He has been a very sick man.”

Roberta crept softly in on tiptoe.  The room was darkened, and there was no light save the reflection of the fire.  Colonel Marsden was, in health, a superbly handsome man.  But, as he lay there in the dim light, emaciated and pallid, there was something almost touching in the droop of his shoulders and the look of helpless weakness about the mouth.  It was not long before he stirred uneasily and opened his eyes.  His gaze fell directly on the child sitting beside him and looking at him with her whole heart in her eyes.