"You did not know, my dear. It was not your fault. I lost my little girl many years ago, but the wound is quite fresh, and it bleeds on occasions. I am all right now, Kaituna--don't look so dismayed. We have all our skeletons, you know. Mine--mine is a little child!"
"Dear Mrs. Belswin," said Kaituna, touching her with tender fingers, "I have only known you a fortnight, it is true, but there is something about you that draws me to you. I don't know what it is, as I don't make friends easily, but with you, why, I feel as if I had known you all my life."
"My dearest!" replied Mrs. Belswin, taking the girl in her arms with fierce affection, "you do not know how happy your words have made me. If my daughter had lived, she would have been just like you now--just like you. Let me give you my love, dear--my dead love that has starved for so many years."
She pressed the girl to her breast, but Kaituna hesitated. As she had said, she was not ready in making new friends, but there was something in the tones of Mrs. Belswin's voice, something about the look in her eyes, in the pressure of her arms, that sent a thrill through her, and, hardly knowing what she did, with sudden impulse she kissed the woman on the mouth, upon which Mrs. Belswin, with an inarticulate cry, leant her face on the girl's shoulder and burst into tears.
Was it Nature that was working here to bring mother and daughter together?--Nature, that has her secret springs, her mysterious instincts, which enable those of one flesh to recognise one another by some hidden impulse. Who can tell? Science dissects the body, analyses the brain, gives hard and fast reasons for the emotions, but there is something that escapes her prying eyes, something that no one can describe, that no one has seen--a something which, obeying the laws of being, recognises its affinity in another body, and flies forth to meet it. We boasted scientists of the nineteenth century have discovered a great deal about that wonderful being--man, but there is one secret which is hidden from all save God Himself, and that is the secret of maternal instinct.
Suddenly they were disturbed by the sound of the gong, and hastily drying their tears--for Kaituna had been crying as much as Mrs. Belswin--they went in to breakfast.
Such a pleasant room, with bright, cheerful paper chintz-covered furniture, and the white cloth of the table covered with hearty country fare. Mrs. Belswin took her seat at the head of the table to pour out the coffee, and Kaituna sat at the side, looking over the bunch of homely flowers, brilliant among the dishes, out on to the fair country beyond. By the side of her plate Kaituna found a letter with the New Zealand postmark on it, and, knowing it came from her father, opened it at once.
"Papa will be back in three months," she said, when she had finished reading it. "His business will not take him so long as he expected."
"What is the business, dear?" asked Mrs. Belswin, with her face bent over her plate.
"Selling land. You know, my mother brought him a good deal of property, and he is now going to sell it."