“O yes, sir. I began life as one of the nurses at the Foundling.”
“Why, that’s it!” cried the wine-merchant, pushing back his chair. “By heaven! Their manner is the manner you remind me of!”
In an astonished look at him, Mrs. Goldstraw changed colour, checked herself, turned her eyes upon the ground, and sat still and silent.
“What is the matter?” asked Mr. Wilding.
“Do I understand that you were in the Foundling, sir?”
“Certainly. I am not ashamed to own it.”
“Under the name you now bear?”
“Under the name of Walter Wilding.”
“And the lady—?” Mrs. Goldstraw stopped short with a look at the portrait which was now unmistakably a look of alarm.
“You mean my mother,” interrupted Mr. Wilding.