"Ha! ha! ha! So my fastidious cousin has changed his name from Royal Ainsley to that of Eugene Mallard to please his uncle, has he? Well, I read of it in one of the New York papers, but I scarcely credited it. Between you and me, Mrs. Lester, that was a mighty mean piece of work—the old fool leaving his entire fortune to him, and cutting me off without a cent."
"Every one knows that you were warned of what was to come unless you mended your ways," answered the woman.
"Bah! I never thought for a moment that the old fool would keep his word," retorted the other. "But you say that my cousin is wedded. That is indeed news to me. Whom did he wed—Vivian Deane?"
"Oh, no," she answered, "not Miss Deane. Every one in the village prophesied that he wouldn't wed her, although she was so infatuated with him."
"I suppose she is an heiress," said Ainsley, savagely knocking the ashes off his cigar. "It's easy enough to marry another fortune if you have one already."
"I don't know if she is an heiress," returned Mrs. Lester; "but she's a real lady. Any one can see that. But I fear that he is in great danger of losing her. She is now very low with brain fever, and it is doubtful whether she will live."
"Humph!" he muttered. "My visit here is most inopportune then. I wanted to see my cousin, and strike him for the loan of a few thousand dollars. He won't be in very good humor now to accede to my request. I think I'll keep shady and wait a fortnight before seeing him. But who is this?" he cried, looking at the child she carried in her arms. "I understood that your baby died."
"So it did," replied Mrs. Lester. "This is the little foundling whom we are about to adopt. My husband brought it to me from a foundling asylum."
"Well, I do declare!" said Ainsley. "That's quite a risky operation, taking a little waif into your home, when you don't know its parents."
"But I do know its mother," she answered. "I wrote and found out all about its mother. She was a young girl who was taken ill in the streets. A poor family permitted her to be brought into their house, and there her babe was born. The young mother was so ill that the babe was taken to the foundling asylum by the doctor who attended her, where it could have constant attention, for its little life was despaired of. By a strange mistake, word was sent to the mother that the little one had died. But the baby rallied and recovered. Almost heart-broken over the news of its death, the young mother disappeared. There was no one so interested as to make search for her, and tell her that her little one had been spared. In her flight she left behind her a package which contained some articles that may lead to her identity, if the child should ever want to find her hapless mother when she grows to womanhood. I have them with me now. Do let me show them to you, Mr. Ainsley."