There was magic in that word, and it unlocked at once the daughter’s heart and divested it of all fear. Just then the moon passed from under a cloud, and through a paneless window, shone full upon the eager, expectant face of the beautiful young girl, who, grasping the hand of the strange old woman, said, imploringly:
“Did you really know my mother,—my own mother?”
“Yes,” returned the woman; “I knew her well. I was with her when she died. I laid her in the coffin. I followed her to the grave, carrying you in my arms, and then I did with you what she bade me do,—I laid you at Judge Howell’s door, and stood watching in the rain until he took you in.”
She spoke rapidly, and, to Oliver, who had drawn so near that he could distinctly hear the whole, it seemed as if she were repeating some lesson learned by rote; but Mildred had no such thought, and, pressing the bony arm, she asked:
“But who am I? What is my name? Who was my father? and am I like my mother?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to make out,” returned the woman, peering closer into her face, and adding, after a minute survey: “Not like her at all. You are more like the Howells; and well you may be, for your poor mother wore her knees almost to the bone praying that you might resemble them.”
“Then I am a Howell!—I am a Howell! and Richard was my father! Oh, joy, joy!” and the wild, glad cry went ringing through the ghostly ruin, as Mildred thus gave vent to what she had so long and secretly cherished in her heart.
“Mildred”—and in the old woman’s voice there was something which made the young girl shudder—“there is not a drop of Howell blood in all your veins; but look!” and drawing from her skinny bosom a worn, soiled letter, she held it up in the moonlight, saying: “This your mother wrote two days before she died. It does not belong to you, for it is intended for your grandfather. I promised to give it to him, should it ever be necessary for him to know; but you may read it, girl. It will explain the whole better than I can.”
“How can I read it here?” Mildred asked, and her companion replied by striking a match across the hearth, and lighting a bit of candle, which she brought from the depths of her pocket.
Holding it between her thumb and finger, she said: