“Four years, my lady,” replied the old man, “but she is a frail little thing. I thank you for your kindness. A drive once in a while might do her world’s of good. I don’t have much money to spend on extras like that.” He glanced at his clothing, and Victoria thought she saw a shade of bitterness cross his face.
“I will call at your house after the bank closes this afternoon,” she said, “and take both you and the child for a long drive. What is your address, please?”
“No. 20 Deptford road,” he replied, his eyes glistening with pleasure. “I lodge with a widow named Mrs. Ball. My name is James Catherwood Vale; my little granddaughter’s name is Dora.”
Victoria nearly dropped the pencil and paper from her hand, while she stared at the unconscious face before her. James Catherwood Vale! the name of her own father’s brother who had been disinherited because he had married a governess. Could this be he? Catherwood had been the maiden name of her paternal grandmother, Dora Catherwood. Dora Vale, her cousin, was the one who should inherit her own little fortune which she had forfeited by marrying Roger. Now, this man, James Catherwood Vale, had a granddaughter named Dora. How strangely like a fairy tale if this should indeed prove her uncle.
These thoughts flashed through her mind with lightening rapidity, while she regained her composure, and jotted down the address he had given her.
“I will surely call for you,” she said, holding out her hand cordially; and as James Vale clasped it in his, he wondered why this strange lady should take this sudden interest in him and his.
He had seen her come in and go out of the bank many times within the past year. He had even handed her the mail more times than one, and he had also wondered what great sorrow could have befallen her, for never until to-day, had he seen a smile upon the sad face. A smile which transformed it into almost angelic beauty.
As Victoria entered her carriage she told the driver to take Oxford street, and drive to Hyde Park. She did not wish to go home for a while where Roger was waiting, with an avalanche of questions the moment she came in, and who would have to be amused for hours perhaps, so that she might not have a moment for quiet thought. She also wanted to read her letters, and as she settled herself among the cushions of her carriage, she thought: “I hope this man may prove to be my uncle, and the little one my cousin. I shall not feel quite so isolated.”
For the first time since receiving her mail she glanced at the different handwritings. “Two from the doctor,” she said, “and, what is this? Oh, I believe the dear child has written to me all by herself. None but a child directed this envelope.” With eager fingers she tore the envelope apart, and after glancing at the heading of the letter pressed it to her lips, and kissed the queer, ill-formed letters again and again. “Ah, how precious,” she murmured, “my baby’s fingers have become tired and weary over this task, but for mamma’s sake they have kept on.” She held the paper from her and gazed at it with a world of love in her eyes. “There is not money enough in all England to buy this little scrap of paper,” she cried, “no, nor in the world.”
When she became calmer she began to read the letter aloud. She loved to hear her voice pronounce the misspelled words, printed by loving fingers, and which came as messengers of peace to the tired starved heart, which had longed, oh so many times, to feel the touch of those baby hands. The letter was characteristic of the child, and Victoria laughed and cried by turns as she read: “My deer’est and truly butyful’est Mamma Wont you be s’prised when you get this well I reken you wil’ papa and uncel doctor has teeched me to print and spel’ but I can print better than I can spel’ papa sey I must rite this al’ bi miself for you wil’ think mor’ of it if he don’t cor’ect it wil’ you must rite in your next and let me no uncel docter sey I’l do beter next tim’ but I like it O mamma before I forget to tel’ you I must tel’ you Jenny my pretty pony has a little baby the swe’test thing you ever saw with long leggs as long as Jennys Jenny keeps liking it al’ the tim’ al’ over with her tong I’m not sure tung is spel’ rite but I mus’ not ask papa for he wil’ not help me if I do for he sed he wood not and he alwa’s dus as he sey O mamma pete has mar’id the gurl who puts on my sho’s and stokings They went off one da’ and when they com’ ba’k petes mama gave him such a beeting that Rosa went criing to papa and sed they got marid so they did and papa laffed and gave them five dollars apece and Rosa sey she’d get marid ev’ry day for five dol’ars and pete sey he get drub’ed every day to for five dol’ars so I spose they ar’ hapy O mamma aint tomoro’ a long ways off I thou’t you wood be home by tomoro’ but it seems as if ther’ had bin a good many tomorows sinc’ you went away’ Flora my dol’ has met with a axident and uncel doctor has had to ampertate her rite leg and tak’ out her rite ey’ wich becom’ brok’ nobodi no’s how I never did care mutch for Flora so I did not even shed a tear al’ the rest of my children ar’e doing well thank you except jonny jump up who has the meesels and Tina’ who has slow consumson wich uncel doctor sey will be her deth som’ day’ O mamma papa do’se not cri so mutch as he did w’en you first went awa he used to hug me so tite he hurt me and then he wood cri and make me feal bad to but I did not cri for you told me I mus’ not I have been reel good wen nite comes and I go to bed papa alwa’s tel’s Rosa he wil’ undres’ me and then we have such fun papa and me and then he razes the blind w’en he le’ves me so I can look at the stars in the sky for he sey the same stars ar’ shining upon my mamma way off over the water and then I go to sleep W’en ar’ you coming home mamma I want to see you and so doos papa for I asked him one da’ and he sed he wood lose ha’f of his life to take your dear hands in his I lov’ papa derely and I lov’ you and then I lov’ uncel doctor who likes to have me cal’ him uncel for he has not got any litle gurl but me my hare is down to my waste in long curls and Rosa scolds caus’ she has to curl it every morning but papa makes her come home soon deerest and most lovely mamma to papa and me I wil’ rite another leter soon from your duty full dauter mary vale willing.”