“Yes, I had just found out, by a long-concealed paper, where my first husband, her father, had taken her when I was helplessly ill. To get rid of her care he pretended she was dead, and so I mourned her, until at last, by accident, after his death, I found his confession, in which he stated where he had left her, also that on her neck he had left the necklace I had caused to be made when we named her. I went there to the asylum as soon as I could, and the matron gave me the address of the woman who had taken her. I went there, and the woman told me she had run away from her, and she knew not, cared not, where she was. My agony of disappointment threw me into a long fit of sickness, and I had almost given up a hope of ever seeing my child. The authorities at the asylum went to the woman, and her report to them was the same as to me. All I could get to identify my dear babe was this necklace and some clothes I had made for her to be christened in, which were on her when her unnatural father took her away, and left her to the charity of strangers. Oh, how soon can I clasp her in my arms!”
“If you were able to ride, within the hour,” said Hattie.
“Oh, I am well. I am strong now. Let me order the carriage at once.”
Hattie saw that though she believed herself strong she was yet very weak. Her pallor and tremulous action showed that. And Hattie had another fear. She knew Miss Scrimp would hide Jessie away rather than let her go, if she could, or dared to do it. And she was at heart almost bad enough to do anything. And Hattie knew that there must be a regular way to force Miss Scrimp at once to yield up the poor girl, without Hattie herself using the hold she had upon her.
“Can you ride with Mr. Legare and myself first to the asylum, and get from the superintendent there an order for the child as her mother?” asked Hattie.
“Oh, yes—that is the way. My brother-in-law knows the whole story, as I have told it to you, although, for reasons of our own, we have kept it from Frank and Lizzie.”
“Then let me ring for Mr. Legare. The poor girl is at my boarding-house, and before the sun sets on this day, please Heaven, she shall be in your arms.”
“Heaven must reward you. I never, never can!” sobbed Mrs. Emory.
Hattie opened the door, called a servant, and in a few moments Mr. Legare was in the room.
He wondered at the joyous light which shone in the eyes of his dear sister; but the happy story was soon told, and he now knew also that his sister had fainted the night before when told she was looking on the portrait of her lost child.