CHAPTER XI.

CONCLUSION.

MRS. FERRERS and her husband were again anxiously awaiting the arrival of the European mail—the lady as impatient and the gentleman as fidgety as they had been when the former letter arrived.

They were not, however, expecting to hear of their daughter now—not at least until they could reach England, and make further inquiries themselves; but it was this return to their native land that made them so anxious for the arrival of this mail.

As soon as Major Ferrers had decided to return, he had written to ask leave of absence at head-quarters. Such a request could scarcely be refused, for he had now been in the service many years, and never once had made such an application. So he felt sure of obtaining it, although he was naturally anxious until it was put beyond the possibility of doubt by its actual arrival.

"Let me see, how soon could we leave if you get the order by this mail?" said the lady languidly, as her maid gently fanned her as she lay on the couch.

"Your preparations are nearly completed, are they not?" said her husband.

"Yes, I have done a good deal of packing," said the lady; which meant that her servants had, with an occasional word of direction from their mistress.

"There need be very little delay, then. We shall be in England in a few weeks, I have no doubt."

But this hope of reaching England so soon was doomed to disappointment. The mail came in a few hours afterwards, but no letter granting Major Ferrers leave of absence. The gentleman fidgeted a good deal when he found it had not arrived. But fidgeting did not bring it, and he had to content himself with the only letter that fell to his share.

"The order has not come," he said irritably, as he entered his wife's sitting room again. "There's so much form to be gone through, I suppose, that they've missed the mail."

The lady looked disappointed. "You have a letter," she said at length, glancing at the one her husband held in his hand.

"Yes, merely an answer from Mr. Mansfield, I expect," he said, opening it as he spoke. "O, another long epistle!" he exclaimed, glancing down the closely-written paper.

He sat down to read it in a comfortable, leisurely manner. But before he had got over many lines, he started to his feet.

"Goodness, Maria!" he exclaimed. And then, recollecting himself, he dropped into his seat.

"What is it? What is the matter?" asked the lady, rousing herself to look at her husband. The expression of his countenance startled her, and she came around to his side. "What is it, Edgar?" she said. "Tell me, do tell me what has happened."

"Wait a minute, my dear, until I have finished, and then I will tell you all—everything," he added.

"Everything!" she repeated. "About what?"

"About the darling child—our long-lost Milly."

"Is she found, then? Have you news of her? I thought you said the letter was from your cousin, Mr. Mansfield."

"So it is, my dear; and I doubt not he has found our Milly, or at least a little girl that he thinks—he says fears—must be our child."

"O, where—how did he find her?" asked the lady impatiently. "Tell me everything about her—Is she well?—What is she like?—Is her hair fair or dark?" These and some half-dozen other questions were asked so rapidly, that it was quite impossible for her husband to answer one of them.

But by degrees, all that Mr. Mansfield had said concerning Milly was communicated, and she grew more calm.

A few hours afterwards, when the husband and wife were again talking of the strange tidings that had reached them—tidings so joyful, that at present nothing else could be thought of or talked about—Major Ferrers suddenly said, "I think my cousin must be greatly changed since I saw him."

"Why, what makes you think that?" asked his wife.

"Well, the way in which he has acted in this affair. He was rather selfish when a boy; in fact, it was that and my provoking temper that led to our last quarrel. But I seem to see somehow in this letter he has written about Milly, that he is acting altogether unselfishly. It is plain that he loves the child very much; for in one place he says that he fears she may be ours."

"He may love her," said the lady, "but he must think that her parents would love her more."

"Well, I don't know; he speaks of leading a lonely bachelor life, and if this is so, and he has become attached to the child, he must feel almost as a father would towards her by this time."

"But he does not refuse to give her up, does he?" asked the lady in a tone of alarm.

"O no; he would not do that, it is not likely. But what I was going to say is, that he will feel parting with her very much, I am afraid."

"Nevertheless, we have the right to take our own child," protested the lady.

"Yes, Maria; but I was thinking that if this should prove to be our long-lost darling, whether it would not be better for me to leave the army and remain in England. Somehow I should hardly like the thought of claiming this little girl and taking her away from my cousin entirely, if things are as I imagine."

In this view of the matter, however, the lady did not concur. She was very selfish, and her husband knew it, and that was why he took so early an opportunity of mentioning the claims Dr. Mansfield would still have, not only upon Milly but upon their gratitude. Of course, a reply was dispatched to the doctor at once, telling him that they would come to England with all speed, but the idea of his leaving the army and permanently settling in his native land was not mentioned.

Upon more mature deliberation, Major Ferrers thought it would be best to see the little girl first, and make sure that she was his own child. And then find out whether he and his cousin were likely to prove agreeable neighbors, for otherwise, such an arrangement as he had thought of, might prove very awkward.

It was a most anxious time, for Dr. Mansfield, that intervened between the arrival of this second letter from India and that of Major Ferrers himself. Sometimes he still fondly clung to the hope that Milly might not be claimed; but this hope was at an end the moment he saw his cousin. There was no mistaking Milly's identity then. She had the blue eyes and fair hair of her father, and the pretty rosebud mouth and dimpled chin of her mother, and it needed but a glance to see that she was the connecting link between the two.

Mrs. Ferrers recognized her instantly, in spite of the great change six years had wrought in her. Milly could not, of course, remember her mamma, and so little accustomed had she been to the society of ladies, that she felt shy and awkward. And though she was much more ready to make friends with her papa, the appealing glances she occasionally directed towards Dr. Mansfield showed that she still clung to him more than to her real parents, much as she had anticipated their coming.

It was a trying ordeal for the doctor—this meeting with his cousin—trying in many ways, but especially in this, that he came to claim as his right all that made life cheerful and happy to him. He had thought of this with some bitterness, but he tried to subdue the feeling now, and yield the right he had hitherto had on Milly's affection.

It was arranged that Major Ferrers and his wife should remain with Dr. Mansfield for a few weeks. And during this time, the doctor was very desirous not to engross the little girl's attention, but withdrew himself as much as possible, to give her an opportunity of becoming acquainted with her parents. He often wondered whether Major Ferrers intended taking the child back to India when he returned. But nothing had as yet been said upon the subject, and the doctor scarcely liked to ask, although he longed to do so.

At length, however, the major himself spoke. They were walking in the garden, and Milly had slipped her hand into that of the doctor and was walking by his side, when her papa joined them.

"Well, pussy, have you told your other papa what we were talking about while he was out yesterday?" asked Major Ferrers, giving Milly a tap.

"No, papa—you said you would do it," answered Milly, coloring up slightly.

"O, I see you are a little ashamed of yourself to-day," laughed the major. "What will you think of her, doctor, when I tell you that she has positively refused to go with me to India, or to London either?"

The doctor glanced fondly at the little bowed figure walking by his side, but he made no reply.

"Yes, she positively refuses to stir from this place, except upon one condition—which is, that you go with us, doctor," went on the gentleman, in the same merry tone.

"But I could not go to India," said the doctor, gravely.

"I don't think I shall go again myself," said the major, speaking more seriously. "I think seriously of leaving the army altogether, and settling down in dear old England."

The doctor looked up quickly at these words. "And where would you settle?" he asked.

"Near London, I think. That would be most advantageous to me for many reasons, and my wife also wishes it as well."

"And Milly?" said the doctor questioningly.

"She will go with—"

"If Dr. Mansfield goes, I said, papa," interrupted Milly at this point, clasping the doctor's hand more closely as she spoke.

He looked at her fondly, but shook his head. "I am afraid I cannot do that, Milly," he said; "I should be in everybody's way, and—"

But at this point he was interrupted by his cousin, and his determination not to leave his home was so fiercely and successfully combated, that he at length promised to think the matter over.

After the major had left them, Milly commenced the attack. "You will come with us, won't you?" she said, coaxingly. "I said I couldn't go without you; but papa could make me, you know, and I don't know what I should do without you."

"Would you miss me very much, Milly?" said the doctor, gently stroking the fair curls.

"Miss you! O, I don't think I could ever love my own papa and mamma if you did not love me still."

And as the doctor sat down in the summer-house, Milly threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him fondly.

Meanwhile Major Ferrers had gone in to tell his wife the result.

"I think we shall bring the doctor round," he said, gleefully rubbing his hands as he told her what had passed in the garden.

"I don't think there's so much to be glad about," said the lady, a little discontentedly. "In fact, I thought at first that such a plan would not do at all."

"Why not?" asked her husband, in some surprise.

"Well, you see, I thought it was very possible, that if he was so fond of Milly, he would be jealous of our claims upon her, and that would make it very disagreeable if we were living together; for, of course, I should expect the first place in my child's affections. But he has certainly acted very sensibly, I must say, and therefore I can have no objection to his coming to live with us, if you and Milly wish it."

What it had cost the doctor to act "sensibly," as Mrs. Ferrers called it, she did not know. Many a hard battle had to be fought with himself over this first place in Milly's affections, that her mother talked of as her right; but the victory had been gained, and brought with it its own reward.

No thought of first or second place in her love troubled him now, as he sat in the summer-house, holding her on his knee, glad that he should not be separated from her—that he should still be able to watch over her. This thought filled his heart, and Milly was not less happy than the doctor.

"I don't think I'm afraid now," she said, after a lengthened pause, gently stroking the doctor's face.

"Afraid of what, Milly?" asked the doctor.

"Don't you remember I was afraid you would love papa most a little while ago?" she said.

He smiled at the thought of such a thing. "Then you are not afraid of it now?" he asked.

"No, not a bit. I think God has made us all love one another; only—" (she added in a whisper) "I can't love mamma quite enough yet; but I dare say that will come by and by, and I dare say I shall soon love her almost as well I do you and papa."

"Yes, Milly, you must try and love your mamma," said the doctor; "she will be grieved if her little girl does not love her."

It was a surprise to the doctor himself that he could talk to the little girl in this way, but somehow the jealousy had all gone out of his heart, and it was almost with the gladness of a little child that he could look forward to going once more into the world.

A few months afterwards, Major Ferrers, with his wife, and Milly, and Dr. Mansfield, removed to London. An arrangement had been made that part of the year should be spent there, and part at the doctor's old house.

Neither he nor Milly were willing to forsake the little village with its humble friends and dear associations. Two of these friend were especially sorry to lose the bright-haired little girl from their midst, although they had good reason to be glad at the coming of her parents.

Major Ferrers presented a boat to the two brothers, Jack and Bob, as their joint property, as a token of his gratitude for saving Milly the night of the shipwreck, and taking such good care of her during the time she lived with them.

But what rejoiced the hearts of the young fishermen as much as anything else, was the stone placed at the head of their mother's humble grave in the village churchyard. It was a plain slab of granite, with the name and age of the widow, and, underneath, Milly's favorite text, "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth."

Milly asked that this might be placed on it, and the doctor concurred in the wish, for both knew that it was to the practical learning of that text that they owed their life's happiness.

THE END.