r me to part with you;
but it is for your good, my darling. You mayn't see it now, but when
you get older you will know it. It will not be so hard now on me, dear,
nor on you, as it would have been had I given you up two years ago; but
we have learned to do a little without each other."

"But you will come and see me, just as you have here, won't you?" Aggie
said, still weeping.

"I hope so, my dear. You see, the squire is your father's father, while
I am only your mother's father, and somehow the law makes him nearer to
you than I am, and he will have the right to say what you must do."

"I won't stay with him. I won't," Aggie said passionately, "if he won't
let you come."

"You must not say that, dear," the sergeant said. "We must all do our
duty, even when that duty is hard to do, and your duty will be to obey
the squire's orders, and to do as he tells you. I have no doubt he will
be very kind, and that you will be very happy with him, and I hope he
will let you see me sometimes."

It was a long time before the child was at all reconciled. When her
sobs began to cease, her grandfather told her what she was to do when
she saw the squire.

"You will remember, my dear, that I have been more fortunate than he
has. I have had you all these years, and he has had no one to love or
care for him. You must remember that he was not to blame, because he
objected to his son marrying my daughter. They were not in the same
position of life, and it was only natural that he should not like it,
at first; and, as I told you, he was coming home to make them both
happy, when he found it was too late.

"You must think, dear, that while I have been happy all these years
with you, he has been sorrowing and grieving, and you must try and love
him, and make up to him for what he has suffered. I know you will not
forget your old friends. You will love me whether you see me often or
not; and Mrs. Walsham, who has been very kind to you; and James, you
know, who saved your life."

"I shall never forget anyone, grampa. I shall always love you better
than anyone," the child exclaimed, throwing her arms round his neck
with a fresh burst of tears.

"There, there, my pet," the sergeant said soothingly. "You must not cry
any more. I want you to look your best this evening, you know, and to
do credit to us all. And now, I think we have settled everything, so we
will be going back to tea."

That evening, the squire was sitting by himself in