‘Some one told me I should see my baby again,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who it was, but some one told me so, and I know that I shall see her—when we meet our friends in heaven.’
‘You shall see her here, on this earth,’ said Maurice.
‘Is that true?’
‘Quite true.’
‘Then let me go to sleep till she comes. Lay her here beside me, and let me find her here when I open my eyes—my sweet baby!’
‘Consider how many years have come and gone since you saw her. She is an infant no longer, but a beautiful young woman.’
Muriel stared at him with a puzzled look. ‘I don’t want to see any young women; I want my baby again—the little baby my mother stole from me.’
This made things difficult. Maurice saw in this a fond clinging to the past, memory strong enough to make the lapse of years as nothing. He made no attempt to argue the point, but left Muriel to the devoted grandmother’s care.
The blind woman sat in her easy chair by the bed, knitting industriously, and murmuring a soothing word now and then. No voice had such power to comfort Muriel.
‘When shall I see my niece, and when will you tell father?’ Martin asked, eagerly, directly he and Maurice were alone together.