“‘Cold, isn’t it?’ said the woman, as her eyes glowed like coals of fire.
“I would have died to make him happy, but it was not my lot to die.
“He had lived here about one year, when his legal wife died in child birth. I mourned with him, for she was a good angel. I went so far as to have her baby girl brought to my cottage and cared for her as I did my own child. He called often, and it was quite natural for me to now look forward to taking the position which was rightfully mine. After six months I ventured to mention it to him. He said: ‘Yes, dear, just as soon as the proper time has elapsed, you know. I am in politics and I cannot afford to cause comment such as a public man must suffer by the failure to observe the proper respect.’”
“Yes, I could see he was right. All of the bright future which remained before him could be turned to inky darkness by just such a mistake as this. He received an appointment at Washington, consequently was away from me a great deal. Finally, on one of his trips home, he suggested the idea of sending his girl baby to some of his people.
“‘It is too much for you, dear,’ he said.
“I had learned to love the little darling and I was lonesome when he took her away. He never forgot to send the remittance for my support, and his visits continued the same.
“One day after he had been in Washington a year I met a lady from there. In our general talk I mentioned that I knew a gentleman there.
“‘Who?’ she asked.
“‘Mr. Sunderman.’