"What is the matter?" he asked. "Are you sick?"
"No, no, I am not sick. But I want to tell you something—a confession. Listen. John is your own real son, and Jess is my daughter. There, now you know the truth."
A startled cry from Mrs. Randall followed this announcement, which caused Mrs. Hampton to wheel suddenly around. Mrs. Randall had sprung to her feet, and was standing before her.
"What did you say?" she demanded. "That John is our son? Is it true?
Tell me, quick."
"Yes, it is true," Mrs. Hampton replied. "John is your son, and Jess is my daughter."
For an instant it seemed as if Mrs. Randall would fall to the ground, so overcome was she at this startling announcement. She stared at Mrs. Hampton as if she had not heard aright. Then she placed her hand to her forehead and sank upon the ground, while tears streamed down her cheeks.
Mr. Randall gazed at the two women in amazement. He looked first at one and then at the other.
"What is the meaning of all this?" he demanded. "John my son, and Jess your daughter! For God's sake, explain!"
With face as white as death, in a low voice, broken with emotion, Mrs. Hampton revealed to the astounded man the entire story of the exchange of the two babies in the hospital almost twenty years before. When she had finished she stood silently before Randall, waiting for his reply. What would his answer be? she asked herself. Never for an instant had he taken his eyes from her face as she related the pathetic story of motherly shame. Would he now scorn her and his wife, and spurn them from him as unworthy of the name of women?
Presently Randall gave a deep sigh, and turned to his wife.