“So I took her home. The next morning I heard that Jacopo was dead, and the Lady Jane has been mine ever since.”
“Have you always called her Lady Jane?” I asked.
“Yes’m. There is a coronet on that locket she wears; and I know she must be some great person’s daughter, she is so beautiful, and seems so much like a real lady.”
“And so you’ve struggled on and worked for her, and taken care of her for six years, now?”
“Yes’m, and I’ve thanked God every day that I’ve had her to take care of. You see, ma’am, I’m not like other people; and it was a good fortune I couldn’t look for to have a beautiful child like that given into my arms, as you might say. It was all the difference between being alone and with no one to care for, and having a home and an interest in life like other women.
“I gave up working in the shop when I took her, for I didn’t like to leave her alone. I was a good workwoman, and they let me take work home for awhile; then I opened the hospital, and I’ve done very well. Lady Jane has been to school, and I don’t think if her true parents met her, they would be ashamed of her.”
“Do you ever think,” I said, “that they may meet her some time, and then you would lose her for ever?”
“Yes, indeed, I think about that, ma’am; and I make her keep the locket in sight all the time, in hopes it might lead to something.”
“In hopes!” I said, surprised. “You don’t want to part with her, do you?”
I was sorry, instantly, that I had asked the question, for her poor face flushed, and the tears gathered in her eyes.