“I have thought it might be well, if possible, to arouse her own suspicions by some process of reasoning on her part, not by any suggestions of ours.”
“May I inquire whether those whom you consider her true parents are still living?”
“They both died many years ago.”
“Then, if her identity could be proven beyond a doubt, would there be any one to give her such a home as she ought to have?”
“Yes, there are those who would be only too glad to give her such a home as very few have the good fortune to possess.”
“And have they never made any inquiry for her?” Miss Gladden asked in surprise.
“They have no idea that she is living; her parents died under peculiar circumstances, and she was supposed to have died at the same time.”
“Then ought we not,” said Miss Gladden thoughtfully, “both for her sake and theirs, to let them know that she is living, and help them to find her?”
“Unless they could see her for themselves,” he replied, “they would probably be rather skeptical, and require very positive proof regarding her claims, they have believed her dead for so many years. But even though I may have known Lyle’s mother, I am not in communication with her friends, and would not be the proper person to present her claims to them.”
For a few moments, Miss Gladden sat silently watching the play of the light and shade on the mountain side across the ravine, opposite the cabin, as the shadows cast by the light, floating clouds, followed each other in rapid succession.