To briefly mention the mystery of Amy, I might say that she was picked up when an infant, afloat on a raft in a flood in a western city. Pinned to her baby dress was an envelope containing the name of Mr. Stonington of Deepdale. He had been telegraphed for, and took charge of the infant.
It was supposed that the mother of the baby was a distant relative of Mrs. Stonington, for the latter had a cousin who resided in the western city. It was believed that, finding herself about to perish, the mother did what she could to insure the salvation of her child, and pinned a note to her dress so that relatives would look after her if the baby was saved.
But only the envelope was found, together with an old and torn diary that gave no tangible clue.
And this was the mystery of Amy's life. As I have said, after living for years in the belief that Mr. and Mrs. Stonington were her parents, they had told her the truth. Now it seemed that there was to be another change.
"Oh, but why must it be so?" mourned poor Amy. "Why can't I be like other girls?"
The tears rushed to her eyes. She could not see, and she skated rapidly on, only wanting to get away.
She heard the ringing of steel runners behind her, but would not turn. Then a voice—a boy's voice—called:
"Look out! Look out where you're going, Amy! The ice is thin up there, and you're going right toward an air-hole! There's danger! Look out!"
If Amy heard she gave no sign nor heed. On she skated, and then the voice behind her called in startled tones:
"What do you mean? Amy, turn! Turn back before it is too late! You'll be drowned!"