"It is true!" said Agnes. "Just as I say. We came home late, and Joseph was half drunk, as usual. I was detained down-stairs, looking for a ring; which I drew off with my glove. He went straight to the nursery, lighted a cigar at the lamp, and threw the burning paper into the baby's cradle. It was a warm night; the child was covered only with a cotton spread, and the mosquito-bars were partly down. I caught a sight of the blaze from the stairs; but before I could get to him, the whole crib was a sheet of flame;—it was too late! He recognized my voice, and stretched out his arms to me. He lived six hours afterwards; but they gave him chloroform, and he never knew me again!"
Letty did not know what to say. Agnes spoke rationally,—too rationally for her to doubt the truth of the narrative, even if it had not been in itself quite probable. Nothing astonished her more than the change in Agnes herself. There was nothing of the old fretful excitability and emphatic manner of talking even about trifles. She spoke in a low, dull tone, almost as if she were talking in her sleep.
"Joseph told his own story," she continued, "and I was too much occupied with the child to contradict him, even if it had been worth while. He is very much changed,—more than I am. He is mad with brandy half the time. Even Madge had lost her influence with him, and he was glad to get her out of the house."
"Poor Madge!" said Letty.
"Oh, she is happy enough," returned Agnes, indifferently. "She had no love for her home, and they take very good care of her. It seemed cruel that she should be spared, while my noble, healthy boy was destroyed. If she had been the one—"
"Oh, Agnes, don't say so!" interrupted Letty. "Madge is your own child, your first-born, and has a double claim upon your affection in her helplessness. She might be a great comfort to you, if you will only feel it so."
"Perhaps so," said Agnes; "but I am past all feeling. I think I should like to see your boy, Letty."
"Why will you not come home and spend the day with me, Agnes?" asked Letty. "You need see no one,—not even John, if you do not wish it."
"I cannot go to-day; though I should like it," said Agnes. "But Joseph is going to New York to-night, to be away some days, and I may come while he is gone,—that is, if you care to have me."
"What has become of Mrs. Van Horn?" asked Letty.