"And have not wondered at it, wife; but you are looking well, Lillian, field life agrees with you."
"Tired though, and have come to Uncle Hiram's for a little rest."
"That's right, my child. I only wish you could have brought Pearl along."
There was a long talk in an upper room that night not far from the guest-chamber to which Mrs. Belmont had retired; for Lillian had desired to tell her aunt all about it, and the good lady listened and wondered.
"Boston is a great city, my child, and what if you could not find Mrs. Gaylord?"
"Her husband mentioned in his letter the name of a Mr. Bancroft, merchant I believe, and through him I thought to learn all I desired. At any rate I must try to find this girl! It is not because I am told that her eyes are like mine, as there is nothing remarkable in this; many have large dark optics," and she laughed, "but because something continually goads me with the conviction that she is my child."
"And have you not told Pearl?"
"No, I could not bear to trouble him as my poor heart is agitated; and it would be an additional grief to have him treat the matter with incredulity. He too must wait for the unfolding."
"But your mother? How will she ever account for the young lady's disappearance? How can either of you forgive what she has done if it is proven that Lily Gaylord is your child?"
Lillian started to her feet, while Mrs. Cheevers looked wildly towards the door. A low, wailing cry as if a heart was being crushed had reached them from the outside, and their cheeks blanched as they listened. For a moment the two listened to their heart's throbbings as the stillness of death settled down about them; then a sound as of one falling broke the silence. Lillian rushed to the door in time to clasp the inanimate form of her mother before the poor head struck the floor upon which she was kneeling. It was true! She had been listening! The upper part of the door did not close tightly, and it was to this opening that her ear had been placed until the brain reeled and she sank upon her knees.