Lady Coningham hastily read the words:
From Mrs. Huntley, Upton Manor, Liddlefield, to Dr. Scott, Chesterham:—Am distressed to hear of accident and the poor woman’s death. I can give you no information, as I have received no reply to my last letter to “M.” Pray let me know if I can be of any pecuniary assistance.
Lady Coningham put down the paper quietly.
“What is to be done now?” she asked.
“I have telegraphed to Newtown,” replied Dr. Scott, looking up, “to the post office there, but, as yet, have received no reply. They may know something, but I can not help thinking the poor creature had some reason for secrecy, and I am doubtful as to success.”
Mrs. Graham was reclining wearily in an armchair by the fire. She spoke now as the doctor finished.
“I wish from my heart I could take the child, but it is out of the question, at any rate just now. My son is studying at Edinburgh University; he unfortunately caught a severe cold, and is now prostrate with rheumatic fever. My every moment will be with him; but, if you will place the poor mite with some kind people for a time, Lady Coningham, I will add my share to the expense, though frankly I am not by any means wealthy.”
“I know of a person,” began the doctor; but Lady Coningham broke in eagerly:
“I will take her to Hurstley. There is a poor young woman, the wife of one of my gardeners, almost heart-broken through the death of her baby. Her cottage is not far from the Weald. I pass it every day in my rides, and I could see the child very often. Let her come there to-morrow before you start. I will see Mrs. Morris to-night as I go home.”
“That seems an excellent plan,” agreed the elder woman—“at all events, for a time; but we must leave no stone unturned to find her relations.”