Miss Leigh was too overcome by the quiet sweetness and dignity of his manner to murmur more than a few scarcely audible words of gratitude in reply--and when at last he took his leave, she relieved her heart by throwing her arms round Innocent and having what she called "a good cry." "And you Pierce's child!" she half laughed, half sobbed--"Oh, how could he leave you at that farm!--poor little thing!--and yet it might have been much worse--" "Indeed I should think so!" and Innocent soothed her fondly with the tenderest caresses--"Very much worse! Why, if I had not been left at Briar Farm, I should never have known Dad!--and he was one of the best of men--and I should never have learned how to think, and write my thoughts, from the teaching of the Sieur Amadis de Jocelin!" There was a little thrill of triumph in her voice--and Miss Leigh, wiping away her tears, looked at her timidly and curiously. "How you dwell on the memory of that French knight!" she said. "When are you going to have your portrait painted by the modern Amadis?" Innocent smiled. "Very soon!" she answered--"We are to begin our sittings next week. I am to wear a white frock--and I told him about my dove Cupid, and how it used to fly from the gables of the house to my hand--and he is going to paint the bird as well as me!" She laughed with the joy of a child. "Fancy! Cupid will be there!" "Cupid?" echoed Miss Leigh, wonderingly. "Yes--Cupid!--usually known as the little god of love,--but only a dove this time!--so much more harmless than the god!" Miss Leigh touched the diamond pendant at the girl's neck. "You have a dove there now," she said--"All in jewels! And in your heart, dear child, I pray there is a spiritual dove of holy purity to guard you from all evil and keep your sweet soul safe and clean!" A startled look came into the girl's soft grey-blue eyes,--a deep flush of rose flew over her cheeks and brow. "A blessing or a warning, godmother mine?" she said. Miss Leigh drew her close in her arms and kissed her. "Both!" she answered, simply. There was a moment's silence. Then Innocent, her face still warm with colour, walked close up to the harpsichord where her father's picture stood. "Let us talk of HIM!" she said--"Now that you know I am his daughter, tell me all you remember of him!--how he spoke, how he looked!--what sort of pictures he painted--and what he used to say to you! He loved you once, and I love you now!--so you must tell me everything!" CHAPTER VIII