t
you to come and live with my daughter, who will be delighted to have you
as a companion. Will you go with me? And I will take care of you and
be a father to you."

"I do not like to leave Alice and Edith; they treat me so kindly, and
call me sister," replied Clara, sobbing.

"I am sure they do, and you must be fond of them already; but still it
is your duty to come with me; and if your father could speak to you now
he would tell you so. I will not force you away, but remember, you are
born a lady, and must be brought up and educated as a lady, which cannot
be the case in this cottage, although they are very kind to you, and
very nice young people. You do not recollect me, Clara, but you have
often sat on my knee when you were a little girl, and when your father
lived in Dorsetshire. You recollect the great walnut-tree by the
sitting-room window, which looked out in the garden, don't you?"

"Yes," replied Clara, with surprise.

"Yes, so do I too, and how you used to sit on my knee; and do you
remember Jason, the big mastiff, and how you used to ride upon his
back?"

"Yes," replied Clara, "I do; but he died a long while ago."

"He did, when you were not more than six years old. And now tell me,
where did the old gardener bury him?"

"Under the mulberry-tree," replied Clara.

"Yes, so he did, and I was there when poor Jason was buried. You don't
recollect me. But I will take off my hat, for I did not wear the same
dress that I do now. Now look, Clara, and see if you remember me."

Clara, who was no longer alarmed, looked on the Intendant's face, and
then said, "You called my father Philip, and he used to call you
Charles."

"You are right, my sweet one," replied the Intendant pressing Clara to
his bosom; "I did so, and we were great friends. Now, will you come
with me? And I have a little girl, older than you by three or four
years, who will be your companion and love you dearly."

"May I come and see Alice and Edith sometimes?"

"Yes, you shall; and she will come with you and make their acquaintance,
if their brother will permit it. I will not take you away now, dearest;
you shall remain here for a few days, and then we will come over and
fetch you. I will send Oswald Partridge over to let you know the day,
Edward Armitage, when we will come for her. Good-bye, dear Clara, and
good-bye, my little girls. Humphrey Armitage, good-bye. Who is this
lad you have there?"

"He is a gipsy whom Hum