Beneath little Mary's name was this line:
"Little Mary died on the 16th of May, 1864—her fifth birthday."
I rested, but thought of little Mary as I watched my own baby who was sleeping so sweetly in this childless stranger's arms—till presently the waves brought back to me the days of my childhood—the story of the sailor with his stolen mill, grinding out salt, forever and forever, and the lost talisman lost still—back to my grandmother's knee, listening with wonder-eyes to "Why the sea is salt," the while my soul chanted to music those all-healing, blissful words, "Edwards is better," gaining strength for the o'erhanging trial I least dreamed of—and the shadows rose to make place for one darker still.
XXVI ONE WOMAN REDEEMED THEM ALL
On the train from Albany my attention was attracted by a man in close conversation with the conductor. I was evidently the subject of discussion, for they would look carefully over the paper they held and then at me as if comparing me with something therein described. Had I been a hardened criminal they would probably not have taken the risk of thus warning me of the fact that I was under suspicion. As my appearance would seem to indicate that, if a law-breaker, I was a mere tyro in crime, they supposed they could safely take notes of me. I was absolutely sure that they were talking of me and trembled with a presentiment of coming evil. I tried to turn my face to the window but my eyes were fascinated. A thousand preposterous fears passed in review before my mind, though the real one never suggested itself. I endeavored to dispel them each in turn, arguing that the scrutiny of the men foreboded nothing, because I seemed an object of curiosity to everybody and, recalling my appearance, I do not wonder.
My dress was different from that of those around me, though I was unconscious of any defect in my apparel, being garmented in my very best, the traveling gown in which I had been married, and which had been bought and made under great difficulties and kept afterward with scrupulous care. So I was perfectly well satisfied with myself.
I wore a long, loose-fitting black silk mantilla with three ruffles at the bottom, while those around me were dressed in tight-fitting, short cloth jackets. My gray straw bonnet, sewed into poke shape by our fashionable village milliner, extended far over the face, its wreath of pink moss-rosebuds inside tangled in with my dark brown hair. It was trimmed on the outside with several clusters and bunches of hand-made grapes of a lighter shade of gray. My collar was about five inches wide and pinned in front with a cameo breastpin. The prevailing collar worn by the world around me was linen, very narrow, only an edge showing, and small jaunty hats, worn back on the head, were the style.
The conductor seemed to be arguing with the strange man as I caught his eye. Just then my baby sprang forward and snatched a newspaper that an old gentleman in front of me was reading, and shrieked when it was loosened from his grasp, the old gentleman looking daggers in answer to my apology. After this diversion I found that the two men were gone, for which I thanked Heaven.