Time goes very fleetly where there is a real and substantial joy, a happiness that mocks all outward changes. It was thus in the humble home of Nannie Bates' mother, and also in the magnificent abode of the Minturn's, whose hearts were untarnished by the constant in-pouring of a lavish opulence.
Four years had elapsed since Nannie found shelter under that pleasant roof, and little Dora had learned to cling to her with an unwonted affection. Mrs. Minturn, too, had such a perfect confidence in the young nurse, and could trust the child to her care and love, as if she were a fond sister. She knows that Dora holds the dead Winnie's place in the warm heart, and that no word of bitterness or touch of anger can ever proceed from the faithful girl. She has just been watching them at play upon the walk, and has noticed Nannie's patience, at some petulant act of the child, and she is rejoicing in the treasure she possesses in Nannie, when Mrs. Bates requests to see her. She has come to take Nannie home. Mr. Bond is ill again, and the girl is needed to nurse him. She grieves very much that she is obliged to tear her from so nice a home; but the good man is entitled to her grateful services, and she has no alternative. Her own hands are ready and glad to wait upon the sick man, but he says "bring Nannie;" and she can not tell him no.
So the nurse must go; and she cries herself almost ill by the side of the sweet child, whose arm is still around her neck in its unconscious slumbers. It seems quite like laying Winnie away again, to turn from the little one that had so long been as her own. There is a duty in it, however, and she sees it too plainly to try to evade it, so she disengages herself softly from the clinging arm, and kissing the little placid face, goes down to the kitchen to see Mike, who had sent up expressly for her. She had not the heart to refuse, when he had always been so kind to her, and perhaps she would not soon meet him again to thank him, for she knew Pat would prevent it if he could. Mike pretended not to notice her downcast looks, although he did perceive that something had occurred to sadden her, and he had a strong desire to comfort her. If it had been one of his horses in trouble, there would have been no difficulty in providing a remedy; but Nannie Bates was quite another thing; and the more he tried to find a solace, the more at a loss was he. Biddy had gone out on an errand, and all the other servants were absent, and he felt that it might be a good time to tell Nannie who it was that he was getting a house for; but the words stuck by the way, and it was in vain to try to force them out, they would not come at all.