Venters, with tingling pulse, with something growing on him,
recognized in the faded miniature portrait the eyes of Milly
Erne.
"Yes, that's Milly," said Lassiter, softly. "Bess, did you ever
see her face--look hard--with all your heart an' soul?"
"The eyes seem to haunt me," whispered Bess. "Oh, I can't
remember-- they're eyes of my dreams--but--but--"
Lassiter's strong arm went round her and he bent his head.
"Child, I thought you'd remember her eyes. They're the same
beautiful eyes you'd see if you looked in a mirror or a clear
spring. They're your mother's eyes. You are Milly Erne's child.
Your name is Elizabeth Erne. You're not Oldring's daughter.
You're the daughter of Frank Erne, a man once my best friend.
Look! Here's his picture beside Milly's. He was handsome, an' as
fine an' gallant a Southern gentleman as I ever seen. Frank came
of an old family. You come of the best of blood, lass, and blood
tells."
Bess slipped through his arm to her knees and hugged the locket
to her bosom, and lifted wonderful, yearning eyes.
"It--can't--be--true!"
"Thank God, lass, it is true," replied Lassiter. "Jane an' Bern
here--they both recognize Milly. They see Milly in you. They're
so knocked out they can't tell you, that's all."
"Who are you?" whispered Bess.
"I reckon I'm Milly's brother an' your uncle!...Uncle Jim! Ain't
that fine?"
"Oh, I can't believe--Don't raise me! Bern, let me kneel.
Pages:
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390