"But is it ours?" demanded Patty, sitting down also, and beginning to unfasten the baby's cap and cloak.
"See if there is anything more—any message—any word—quick—oh, Patty, Patty. I am weak!"
Patty rose up, stroked his cheek, kissed him, said: "Courage, Mark! Heaven has helped us!" and then she set to searching the child.
On the lace bosom of the little dress was sewed a letter. She unfastened it and held it to her husband.
"You read it, Mark. I am so frightened, my eyes are dim. See, it is to us; it says on the outside—'To Mark and Patty Brace.'"
Mark restrained himself, and as Patty softly rocked the child to and fro on her breast, he read aloud:
"To you a most sorrowful mother sends this little child. You have never seen that mother, probably you never will; but she has heard of you—of honest Mark Brace and Patty Brace, his kind, good wife. Oh, be tender to this little child, deprived of father and of mother. Be patient with it; think how its mother's heart ached at parting: think of your own little child. Let this baby be yours, and your child's sister. It is lovely and white as an angel. Will you try to keep its soul white and pure, and bring it up simply, like your own, just to be good? There is a little mark on the right shoulder—a little red leaf. But I may never be able to claim my own again. Then let it be yours, and rear it, as you will answer for it to God. With the child the mother sends you a hundred pounds, and every year will send you the same. This is a child of noble blood and honest birth. Its mother prays you, for the sake of mercy and pity, to make no effort to find her. Never show this letter, never try to learn the child's surname; her Christian name is Doris. Will you say you have taken charge of the child for a lady who has gone abroad? Say only that, and night and day a heart's best prayers will go up for you, who are good to little Doris."
Mark and Patty looked at each other in silence.
"Oh, Mark! you doubted—doubted God and prayer!"
"Did I? May God pardon me—I was wild with misery!"