She moved her head from side to side in dissent. “Oh, you do not know, but I did it for love’s sake. I could not live without my child.”
“Suppose we get her undressed, she will feel more comfortable. She has not looked well for the last week or two. Mrs. Barrington was speaking about it, but she is such a quiet body.”
Lilian opened the bed. She was girlishly glad her mother’s night dress was neat and lace trimmed, fit to go to her new home. So they soon had her easier and restful.
“I should like a cup of tea,” she said, weakly.
“I’ll get it,” and Miss Arran left the room.
“Dear mother,” and Lilian patted the hands that were thin and cold.
“Oh, love me a little to the end, I’ve loved you so much. Whatever comes you will know I did it for love’s sake, and you must forgive.”
“There can be nothing to forgive. You have worked for me early and late. You must live and let me repay you, make you happy. If I have failed in the past I will try with all my soul and strength in the future. Think, every year brings us nearer the home I shall make for you. Oh, do not talk of dying!”
“You don’t know. I did not think of the wrong then. You were a motherless babe, then, and I was a childless mother. For you must know, you must have felt in your inmost soul that I was not your true mother.”
Lilian raised her head in the wildest dismay, and though she stared at Miss Arran she did not seem to see her. Many a time like a lightning flash the thought had swept over her, but it seemed awful to have it put in words, to have the certainty pierce through her like a sharp sword.