"Truly puzzled was he how to act in a dilemma so bewildering. It was a contingency for which he had not mentally provided. Here he stood, a stranger, at two o'clock in the morning, in the presence of a young and lovely girl whose eyes had never rested on his face. What on earth was he to do?
"Her age could not have been more than seventeen or eighteen, and her likeness to the woman he had left in the Bow Street Police Station, left no room to doubt that she was her daughter, the Constance he had come to see. He coughed, and shuffled his feet, and shifted a chair, but these movements did not arouse the sleeping beauty. She slept calmly on, her bosom gently rising and falling as she breathed.
"He ventured to approach close to the table. The book the young girl had been reading was Scott's 'Ivanhoe,' and the miniature lying on the page was that of a young man, presumably of the better class. There was something singular in the aspect of this young man's eyes; they were open, but there was a vacant expression in them which, upon examining them more closely, led our reporter to suppose that the possessor was blind.
"As his movements were ineffective in arousing the young girl to consciousness, our reporter, without any distinct idea as to how he should proceed with his task, laid the purse, the key, and the handkerchief on the table close to the girl's hand. He retained the letter.
"Every moment that passed increased the awkwardness of his position, and he now ventured to touch the sleeper's arm. She moved slightly in her chair, and shifted the hand that rested upon the table so that it reached the miniature. Her fingers closed upon it.
"Again our reporter touched her arm, and in a low tone he called her by her name. The arm that had been hanging down was raised, and clasped his hand. 'Mamma!' she murmured, and she held his fingers with a tender clasp.
"'Really,' thought our reporter, 'this is growing more and more perplexing.' Presently, to his relief, her fingers relaxed, and he drew his released hand away. By this time he felt that bolder measures were necessary. Retreating to the door he overturned a chair, and hastily stepped into the passage. The ruse was successful; the young girl started to her feet, and called out Mamma! Is that you?'
"The answer she received was a tap at the door. Timidly she approached and opened it, but flew back into the room at the appearance of a stranger.
"'Do not be alarmed,' said our reporter, standing on the threshold; 'I come as a messenger from your mother.'
"'As a messenger from my mother!' she stammered, gazing at him from a safe distance in evident distress, 'I do not understand you, sir. Do not come nearer to me, or I shall call for assistance.'