“Clear Jarvis and no mistake.”—Page [237].
“I haven’t thanked you yet,” and he turned again to Mrs. Blossom, “for the interest you have shown in the matter. Indeed I was so surprised when I received the letter from the minister who married Kate, who still lives in Fredonia, inclosing yours to him, and the first word concerning Kate for fifteen years, that I haven’t recovered from it yet. And now to find another Kate, as you may say; why, it makes me feel as though I had lost my reckoning, and the world had rolled back thirty years.”
“And did you not know then that Rose’s mother was dead?”
“No. Since her foolish, runaway marriage to Jim Shannon, sixteen years ago, I had not heard a word either from or about her, till your letter, and you know how little that told. Since her mother’s death the lawyer in charge of the business has made every effort to find a trace of Kate or her heirs, but in vain. Of the events of her later life I know nothing whatever, not even when or where she died.”
“It was when I was quite a little girl,” answered Rose, “and in a city that I now think was Chicago.”
“I gather from Mrs. Blossom’s letter that your father was also dead. Is that so?”
“Yes; he died a little while after mamma.”
“A fortunate circumstance for you,” with a nod to Mrs. Blossom. “And where have you been all this time; and why if you had your mother’s marriage certificate didn’t you try to find your friends, or somebody before this try to find them for you?”
In the meantime, Mr. Samuel Jarvis, the old gentleman, as he talked, had by degrees taken off his muffler, fur-lined overcoat, fur cap and gloves, and accepted the comfortable rocker before the fire. Now in answer to his question, made though it was in a somewhat testy fashion, Rose related to him her story, recalling all the details she could remember of her mother, while Great-Uncle Samuel rubbed his eyes with his big silk handkerchief and murmured, “Poor Kate, poor Kate!”