“I—I—beg your pardon, Mrs. Thorpe, but—well, the truth is, I called to know if you have any information of her.”
“How can you ask that question of me?” replied Constance brokenly, while again the tears welled up in her eyes.
“You see, madam—ahem! You won’t be offended with me, for God knows I do not mean any offense to you, but—ahem—you see, madam, you are the unhappy cause of as fine a hearted gentleman as was ever born being a broken-spirited, a—a—blighted man!”
“Sam!” she affrightedly exclaimed. “What are you saying?”
“This,” continued he, with dauntless determination, “and I’ll tell you the truth. You are the talk of the town, and they say you—you—you’ve secured the child from your husband.”
Her face became ashy white as the meaning of John’s absence from home dawned on her mind. She staggered, then sank into a chair. Presently she looked up with a sort of dazed, wandering expression and tried to smile through watery eyes. “My cup of woe is very full, Sam! Please don’t jest with me!”
He wiped the perspiration from his brow, for he felt his resolution to accomplish what he had set out to do was fast crumbling.
He rushed on, “I am not jesting. No, I guess not! I know I am paining you, but I have a duty to do which I shall do, as I have always done through my life. And as this affair occurred at my uncle’s place, they say he knows more about it than he cares to tell, which he doesn’t. And I have come to see if you really don’t know something of the whereabouts of Dorothy, as that would relieve my uncle and aunt of much embarrassment—at least—I guess so!”
Her lips trembled with the pathos of her reply: “Did I know of the fate of my child, heaven could not bless me with a more joyful desire—to let you know, to let your aunt know, that Dorothy is—is safe. As it is, I would to heaven that I were dead and with my darling.” And her head fell forward on the table as a burst of heart-rending agony shook her frame.
It was evident Sam was uneasy and much affected by her distress. He coughed and tried to clear his throat again and again. “Ahem!—you must excuse me, Mrs. Thorpe—ahem! But—but, Lord—Lord! I can’t bear to hear you take on that way. Ahem! Ahem! I’m rough and thoughtless in my way, and it seems harsh and brutal to speak to you as I have done—I guess so!—and if any man in my hearing says you have hidden your child—why, by Heavens, I’ll knock the lie back through his teeth.”