"God is indeed good to me. I will never murmur again," ejaculated Mrs. Conrad, with heartfelt gratitude.
"But, mother, I don't understand. How came you here—in Chicago?"
"Come home with me, Oliver, and you shall hear. My little Florette's clothes are wet, and I must take her home immediately."
A cab was hired, for delay might be dangerous. On the way Mrs. Conrad and Oliver exchanged confidences. Oliver's anger was deeply stirred by the story of his mother's incarceration in a mad-house.
"I take back what I said. I won't forgive Mr. Kenyon after that!" he said. "He shall bitterly repent what he has done!"
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE COMMON ENEMY.
M RS. GRAHAM heartily sympathized in the joy of the mother and son, who, parted by death, as each supposed, had come together so strangely.
"You look ten years younger, Mrs. Conrad," she declared. "I never saw such a transformation."
"It is joy that has done it, my dear friend. I was as one without hope or object in life. Now I have both."