"Yes," Dan agreed, "but do you mean that the father actually abandoned her?"
"Practically. He left a note for me and a little bag of gold amounting to two thousand dollars to be used for the child. If you will hand me that old secretary there, I will show you the letter."
Dan placed the old-fashioned writing-desk on the table beside her, and waited anxiously while she fumbled in her pocket for the key. She unlocked the desk, and after searching a few moments amongst innumerable papers, drew out an old letter. This she unfolded carefully and handed to Dan. It was written in English, in a fine running hand. He read it attentively.
"The Inn at the Red Oak, Deal:
"14 October, '814.
"Madame:
"Political circumstances over which I have no control, patriotic considerations which I cannot withstand, demand my immediate return to France. In the conditions into which I am about to be plunged the care of my dear little daughter becomes an impossibility. Inhuman as it must seem to you, lacking in all sense of Christian duty as it must appear to you, I entrust, without the formality of consulting you, my beautiful little Eloise to your humane and tender care. With this letter I deposit with you the sum of two thousand dollars in gold, which will go a little way at least to compensate you for the burden I thus unceremoniously, but of necessity, thrust upon you. I appeal to and confide in the goodness of your heart, of which already I have such abundant testimony, that will take pity upon the misfortune of a helpless infant and an equally helpless parent. May you be a mother to the motherless, and may the Heavenly Father bless you for what you shall do.
"I embark, madame, upon a dangerous and uncertain mission. Should that mission prove successful and restore the fortunes of my house, I will return and claim my daughter. Should fate overwhelm me with disaster, I must beg that you will continue to regard her and love her as your own. The issue will have been decided within five years. Permit me to add but one thing more,—in the event that I fall in the cause I have embraced, I have made arrangements whereby communications shall be established with you, madame, that will redound to your own good fortune and that of the little Eloise.
"All effort to thwart my plans or to establish my identity in the meantime, will, I must warn you, be fruitless.
"Adieu, madame: accept the assurance of my gratitude for all that you have already done to sweeten exile and of my earnest prayer for the blessing of God upon your great good heart.