“A girl,—the prettiest baby.”
“Did she take the child with her when she went?”
“No; it was put out to nurse with a niece of my husband who was confined about the same time. Madame paid liberally in advance, and continued to send money half-yearly, till she came herself and took away the little girl.”
“When was that,—a little less than five years after she had left it?”
“Why, you know all about it, Monsieur; yes, not quite five years after. She did not come to see me, which I thought unkind, but she sent me, through my niece-in-law, a real gold watch and a shawl. Poor dear lady—for lady she was all over,—with proud ways, and would not bear to be questioned. But I am sure she was none of your French light ones, but an honest wife like myself, though she never said so.”
“And have you no idea where she was all the five years she was away, or where she went after reclaiming her child?”
“No, indeed, Monsieur.”
“But her remittances for the infant must have been made by letters, and the letters would have had post-marks?”
“Well, I dare say; I am no scholar myself. But suppose you see Marie Hubert, that is my niece-in-law, perhaps she has kept the envelopes.”
“Where does Madame Hubert live?”