“It is just a league off by the short path; you can’t miss the way. Her husband has a bit of land of his own, but he is also a carrier—‘Max Hubert, carrier,’—written over the door, just opposite the first church you get to. The rain has ceased, but it may be too far for you to-day.”
“Not a bit of it. Many thanks.”
“But if you find out the dear lady and see her, do tell her how pleased I should be to hear good news of her and the little one.”
Graham strode on under the clearing skies to the house indicated. He found Madame Hubert at home, and ready to answer all questions; but, alas! she had not the envelopes. Madame Marigny, on removing the child, had asked for all the envelopes or letters, and carried them away with her. Madame Hubert, who was as little of a scholar as her aunt-in-law was, had never paid much attention to the post-marks on the envelopes; and the only one that she did remember was the first, that contained a bank-note, and that post-mark was “Vienna.”
“But did not Madame Marigny’s letters ever give you an address to which to write with news of her child?”
“I don’t think she cared much for her child, Monsieur. She kissed it very coldly when she came to take it away. I told the poor infant that that was her own mamma; and Madame said, ‘Yes, you may call me maman,’ in a tone of voice—well, not at all like that of a mother. She brought with her a little bag which contained some fine clothes for the child, and was very impatient till the child had got them on.”
“Are you quite sure it was the same lady who left the child?”
“Oh, there is no doubt of that. She was certainly tres belle, but I did not fancy her as aunt did. She carried her head very high, and looked rather scornful. However, I must say she behaved very generously.”
“Still you have not answered my question whether her letters contained no address.”
“She never wrote more than two letters. One enclosing the first remittance was but a few lines, saying that if the child was well and thriving, I need not write; but if it died or became dangerously ill, I might at any time write a line to Madame ——-, Poste Restante, Vienna. She was travelling about, but the letter would be sure to reach her sooner or later. The only other letter I had was to apprise me that she was coming to remove the child, and might be expected in three days after the receipt of her letter.”