He went on board the boat, and while all those on the dock, puzzled and mystified by his questions, waited, he disappeared. When he returned he was not alone. A woman was with him, and, at the sight of her Bessie gave a cry of astonishment.
“Now, Mrs. Richards,” said Charlie. “Have you ever seen this woman before?”
“I think I have,” she said, in a strange, puzzled tone. “But–she has changed so–”
“Her name is Mrs. Hoover, Mrs. Richards. Does that help you to remember?”
“Oh!” Mrs. Richards sobbed and burst into tears. “Mrs. Hoover!” she said, brokenly. “To think that I could forget you! Tell me–”
“One moment,” said Charlie, interrupting. His own voice was not very steady, and Eleanor, a look of dawning understanding in her eyes, was staring at him, greatly moved. “It was with Mrs. Hoover that you left your child when you went west under an assumed name, was it not? It was she who told you that she had died?”
“Oh, I lied to you–I lied to you!” wailed Maw Hoover, breaking down suddenly, and throwing herself at the feet of Mrs. Richards. “She wasn’t dead. It was that wicked Mr. Holmes and Farmer Weeks who made me say she was.”
“What?” thundered Richards. “She isn’t dead? Where is she?”
“Bessie!” said Charlie, calling to her sharply. “Here is your daughter, Mrs. Richards, and a daughter to be proud of!”
And the next moment Bessie, Bessie King, the waif no longer, but Bessie Richards, was in her mother’s arms!