The tears were streaming down his face, and Magdalen felt herself beginning to relent, but there must be no mistake,—no shadow on which to build a doubt hereafter. She could not take her place in the hearts of that family as a rightful daughter of the house and then suddenly be displaced by some other claimant. She must know to a certainty that she was Magdalen Grey, and she replied:
“I am not satisfied; we must investigate farther than we have. Your wife talked of a Mrs. Storms who was sponsor for her baby. Did you ever know it was baptized? Did she write you to that effect?”
“Never. She only said that baby Madeline was dead,” Mr. Grey replied, and after a moment’s hesitation Magdalen continued, “Tell me, please, if you ever wished to give Alice another name than the one she bears, and did your wife oppose it?”
Mr. Grey’s face was scarlet, but he answered promptly,—
“I did propose calling Alice after a dear friend of mine whose second name was Magdalen.”
“Then Mrs. Grey was right so far,” Magdalen rejoined, “and may have been correct in her other statements to me, also. She told me one was Madeline, and that to please you she called the other “Magdalen,” after the friend for whom you wished Alice named, and that a Mr. and Mrs. Storms were sponsors. Do you know any such people?”
Mr. Grey did not, and Magdalen continued:
“We must find them. Is it of any use to inquire in the vicinity where Mrs. Grey once lived?”
“None whatever. Every house has been pulled down, and every family is gone,” was the unpromising answer, but Magdalen was not disheartened.
“The christening must have been in church. Can you tell which one it was likely to be?”