"The man whom he went to see was the one who brought me to Daddy; now we shall know how," and dropping to a stool by Miss Emmy's side, she rested her head upon the elder woman's knees, as she was used in the old days of confidence before things began to happen.
Latimer took the cup of tea that Jeanne brought to him, and then another, before he drew his chair closer to the group of women and began, trying to compress his narrative as much as possible for the sake of all concerned, while he spoke as to Poppea alone.
"The man brought to the Bridgeton Hospital was Peter Randal, the son of Betty Randal, your grandfather Dudleigh's housekeeper and your mother's nurse. When your mother returned to Hampshire and you were born, Peter was away at sea, but came back soon after her death and married an old sweetheart, a pretty barmaid of the town. Betty Randal, though to all appearances in the prime of life and best of health, died suddenly a few months after your mother, without having had time to carry out any of her directions or safeguard you in any way, so that Peter and his wife found themselves left with you on their hands and the temptation of a snug fortune before them, because your little sum of money had been at the time entirely in Betty Randal's control.
"Peter's wife had a sister in Canada, who made great representations of the fortunes to be made there in farming if one only had money in hand; so after much persuading, Peter yielded doggedly to the scheme of keeping your money, which it would have been really difficult to prove did not belong to Betty herself.
"Peter, however, refused even to think of the plan of leaving you at some foundling asylum instead of taking you to your father, and insisted upon going to Canada by way of Boston, bringing you with them, and leaving you with John Angus en route. He also had sufficient family feeling to take with you the papers your mother had left, upon which he knew Betty had set such store.
"Knowing nothing of the country, they found upon their arrival that Boston was far east of their destination, and so, going to New York, worked their way backward, getting off in the confusion of the war excitement and the late train at Westboro, while the box, hastily addressed to John Angus, Harley's Mills, and not checked, was dropped off at this station, the tag evidently having been in some way mutilated in transit so that the place of destination only remained.
"On asking some chance loungers at the Westboro depot the direction of John Angus's house at Harley's Mills, Randal was told 'the first above the post-office,' and to that they drove, not realizing that their guides in this case considered the joined house and office as one building. In the fury of the storm the Randals only waited to be sure that the door was opened, and going to Bridgeton, were lost among many other travellers. For some time everything went well with the pair, and then luck turned. Peter's wife left him after securing the farm to herself, and first the man took to the road, trying in some way to return to the old country, but in spite of all, a bit of deep-down remorse made him wish to know what had become of the baby Helen on his way.—The rest you know."
"What will they do with him?" asked Poppea, softly.
"That which he asked of me," said Latimer.
"I must have known you would have thought of it, and yet there must be an odd touch of the same race feeling in me too. Thief as he was, his people were once loyal to mine, also I wish I might have thanked him for his mistake."