“Hush, dear,” cautioned Virginia. “Your mother and Aunt Virginia are here.”
“Oh, Mamma and Aunty!” joyfully exclaimed Dorothy, for she recognized Virginia’s well-known voice, and sitting up, said:
“You’ve come to take me home, haven’t you?”
Again the match light faded out.
The voice of Dorothy seemed to thrill Constance with new energy, for, with a frantic effort, she partially recovered her composure. She struggled to her feet, and in a rapture of thanksgiving, folded the child to her heart.
“Oh, my darling, my darling, please God, they shall never take you from me again. No, never again.” And she kissed her with a passionate joy, such as only a fond mother can feel for her helpless infant.
“Oh, mamma, I am so glad,” responded Dorothy, clasping her little arms about her mother’s neck.
“Dorothy, dear, where is he?” questioned Virginia, in a whisper.
“He was in the room when I came to bed, Auntie.”
“He is not there now. He must be away.” And a prospect of getting the child away without a struggle nerved her to instant action.