Excerpt: ...He Pg 129 owned to himself that he looked at her with a kind of shock. This Daisy Wilson's Daughter? This pale, dark, thin woman the child of that little, bright, curly-locked, golden-headed sister, whose face was as the sun, whose gay, rounded figure he had seen flitting before his eyes during all the weary years of his exile? It could scarcely be possible. Perhaps it was not possible? "I have come to see Mrs. Home," he began. "And I am Mrs. Home," answered the distinct, quiet voice. No, there was no hope; his ...
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Excerpt: ...He Pg 129 owned to himself that he looked at her with a kind of shock. This Daisy Wilson's Daughter? This pale, dark, thin woman the child of that little, bright, curly-locked, golden-headed sister, whose face was as the sun, whose gay, rounded figure he had seen flitting before his eyes during all the weary years of his exile? It could scarcely be possible. Perhaps it was not possible? "I have come to see Mrs. Home," he began. "And I am Mrs. Home," answered the distinct, quiet voice. No, there was no hope; his Daisy's daughter was not in the least like her. Well, she was at least her child. He must take what comfort he could out of the relationship without the likeness. "You are Daisy's Wilson's child?" he said, and now again his hands were outstretched, and the smiles had returned to his face. But Mrs. Home, completely in the dark, rather startled than otherwise, made no gesture of welcome. Her hands were not held out, her lips remained unsmiling. "My mother's name was Wilson," she admitted. "Yes, it was Daisy Wilson. I did not recognize it at first, as of course she was never called it to me." "Ay, ay, likely enough; but she was never anything else to me, just always little bright Daisy Wilson. I thought I'd find her before me, something as she used to be, a bit stoutened, perhaps, but not greatly altered. I have pictured her for the last six and twenty years just as I saw her last the bonniest bit of a thing the sun ever shone on." "You knew my mother then?" said Charlotte. "Knew her, lass, knew her! good heavens, what next? Did Daisy never speak to you about me? I don't believe it. Before I left it was 'Sandy, Sandy, ' from morning to night. It was not in her to forget. Tell me, lass, did you never hear of your mother's big brother, Sandy Wilson who went to Australia?" Charlotte's eyes began to dilate. "My mother often spoke of this brother," she said slowly. "My mother would have liked to have met you, had you known him. She never fretted for...
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