"My dear," she said, "I have something to tell you, and I mean to tell it without any roundabout ways or preparation, which I have always considered nonsense. You have made a noble offer, I understand, to Paul Derinzy, in order to enable him to marry the girl he loves. But you have no notion who that girl is." "Yes, I have; she is a Miss Stafford--a very charming person, and most devotedly attached to Paul. She nursed him through that dreadful fever; and my aunt has had to acknowledge that there is nothing against her, except that she is not rich--not quite what people call a lady. She has been forewoman to some great milliner, I believe--like dear beautiful Kate Nickleby, you know," said Annette, to whom the matchless creations of the Master were the friends, the associations, the illustrations of her every-day life. "Yes, yes, you know so much; I am aware of that," said Mrs. Stothard. "But what you do not know, Annette, is, that this Miss Stafford is my daughter, Fanny Stothard, and that by the nobleness of your conduct to her you have won my best affection, have utterly disarmed me--not towards you, but towards others--and turned the enemy of the Derinzys into the friend of all whom you care for." "The enemy of the Derinzys!" repeated Annette, who had been looking at her in blank amazement, hardly taking in the meaning of what she said. "Yes, their enemy; their enemy for a reason which I need not explain, which, indeed, I could not to you, but a well-founded one, believe me. I knew their designs about you, and held them in check all along, and played a counter-game of my own, while they were playing their unsuccessful cards; and had the end come as I expected, I should have defeated and exposed them, and had my revenge; but another end has come, a widely different end, thank God, and your noble conduct to my child--your upholding of the obscure, unknown, friendless girl, who had no claim upon you except the claim so seldom allowed, of womanly sympathy, and your kindly touch of nature--has softened my heart and changed my purpose, and henceforth I shall hold you and her equally dear." "Oh, Mrs. Stothard, how could you live without her?--how could you bear to part with her?" "Because we were poor; we could not afford the luxury of a common home. You have no practical experience of such things, my dear; but they exist; and they warp one's nature sometimes. I believe my nature was warped, Annette; but you--your patience, your sweetness, your nobleness and generosity--have set it right again." "And your daughter Fanny is really, really Paul's Daisy?" Annette said, with a dreamy and surprised delight in her eyes and her voice. "How delighted Paul will be to hear it, and my George!" "They know it already," said Mrs. Stothard; "but I begged that I might be allowed to tell you myself."