ver a dozen years, my dear.

"It was soon after she went away that your mother--I mean Florence--was
married. Isabel heard of it and was glad. And later, when she learned
that a dear little daughter had been born to Florence, she was happier
still. But then came sad news. Oh, such sad news! The beautiful
young mother died, died and left her little baby girl behind her with
only the poor father to take care of it.

"Then, after that, Isabel heard nothing more for a long, long time, for
Florence's good parents were dead and her husband and Isabel
were--well, not at enmity, Nan, but not at peace together. It was all
owing to a misunderstanding, but that did not alter it. They were not
friends and Isabel was too proud to write and ask him whether all went
well with him and the little daughter or whether she might perhaps help
to care for the child. And so years passed and then one day Isabel
felt that she could remain away from America no longer. All the time
there had been a great longing in her heart to return, but she had
tried to smother it and tell herself that she had no Fatherland; that
America was no more to her than any of the strange countries she had
lived in; that her acquaintances abroad were as much to her as her
friends at home. But, as I say, by and by she could resist her desire
no longer, and so one day she set sail for America--I think it must
have been after she had been absent for quite fourteen years--and oh!
how her heart beat when she saw the dear land once more. Well, I must
make my story short, Nan, so I will not tell you how it came about that
she first heard that Florence's little daughter had grown into a tall
girl; that she was living in the old house where Isabel had spent so
many happy years; that her father had gone to some far Eastern country
and left her in the charge of a faithful servant of her mother's who
had loved them all in days gone by. But she learned all this and more
beside and then something told her that it was her duty to go to
Florence's child and care for her and show her as well as she might how
to be a noble, true, and lovely woman, as her mother had been before
her. So she went to the little girl as governess and at first the
child was opposed to her, but by and by she--I really think she grew to
love her almost as much as the governess loved the child. And all this
time the father never knew who was caring for his girl because in the
letters that went to