“I shall certainly not allow anybody to trouble mamma if I can help it, my boy,” returned the doctor, hurrying into the house.
Serena met him, all bathed in tears, and threw herself sobbing into his arms.
“My darling!” he exclaimed, in surprise and concern, “what is wrong? what can have happened to distress you so?”
“Oh, Alonzo, the worst, the very worst thing you can imagine! Perry Golding is not dead—there was some strange mistake; he is here; in town; and—and he claims me as more his than yours. But oh, I love you—only you; and it will kill me if I have to go back to him!”
“It is beyond belief!” he cried, aghast. “Surely the fellow is an impostor!”
“No; I thought so at first; but he proved his identity to me beyond a doubt. Oh, tell me, have I not a right to choose between you and cling to the one I love best—the one who will let me have both my children?—for he would force me to leave my baby behind.”
“Then he is utterly unworthy of you!” exclaimed the doctor, in hot indignation.
“Then you will not let him tear me away from you?” she sobbed, clinging closer to him.
“It would be like submitting to having my heart torn out,” he groaned; “but oh, my dear, I cannot yet see what can be done—how I can rightfully ignore his claim to you, my heart’s idol! Let me think,” he added, releasing her from his embrace and beginning to pace the floor.
“He deserted me and left me for three years to believe him dead and buried,” she said. “I think I’ve heard that was considered sufficient ground for divorce.”