"Oh! my God!" cried the wretched stranger, "who will now take care of you, my poor dear—dear little Charles! I who have been to you as a mother——"
"Yes—you are my mamma—my own mamma," exclaimed the child, his heart ready to burst, although he scarcely understood the real nature of the misgivings which oppressed him.
"Sir," said the woman, after a few moments of profound silence, during which the sobbings of the boy and the uneasy palpitations of her own breast were alone heard in the chamber,—"sir," she said, addressing herself abruptly to Rainford, "you spoke to me kindly—you look kindly upon me,—and, if I may judge by your countenance, you possess a kind heart——"
"Speak, poor woman!" cried Rain, softened almost to tears. "If there is any thing I can do for you, confide in me—and I swear——"
"The gratitude of a dying being is all that I can offer you in return for what I am about to ask," interrupted the woman in a faint, yet hurried tone—for she seemed to feel that she had not long to live. "Draw near, sir—there—and now listen attentively. Dreadful privation—exposure to the cold—sleeping in the fields—and painful wanderings have reduced me to this state. But I shall die contented—nay, even happy, if I thought——"
"I understand you," cried Rain. "You are anxious for the welfare of this boy? Compose your mind—banish those painful reflections—I swear to protect him!"
There was something so earnest and sincere in the manner, the voice, and the countenance of Rainford, who was a creature of the most generous impulses, that the dying woman believed him; and her heart bounded with fervent gratitude.
Then, making a sign for Rainford to draw nearer to her still, she collected all her remaining force to utter a few last words; but physical exhaustion almost completely choked her utterance.
"This boy," she murmured in a faint and dying voice, "is not mine. Do not weep, Charles, love—I am not your mamma——although I love you——as if you was my own child. But the moment you were born——in secret——and mystery——the nurse brought you to me——all having been so arranged——and——from that moment I——but, my God! I am dying!——oh! give me strength to declare that——your mother——is——"
"Speak, speak!" cried Tom Rain: "breathe but the name of his mother—I shall catch it—and I declare most solemnly——O God! she is dead!"