She re-entered the carriage, still with Doctor Danton and Mr. Dunbar, and they were driven rapidly uptown. Violet asked no questions as to their designation. She knew that she was safe with these two good friends. The drive was a very long one; the carriage turned down Henry Clay Avenue at last, and then for the first time Violet expressed surprise at the very lengthy drive. Doctor Danton took her hand in his.
“My dear,” he said, kindly, “trust to me; I am taking you to a person whom I wish you to identify. We are going to—to—the Louisiana Retreat.”
Violet had heard of this asylum, but she had never visited it. She felt a strange feeling of terror steal over her heart. Did they consider her insane, or that her brain was in any way affected, after all? But she restrained her emotions and kept quiet, feeling that soon all would be explained. The carriage halted before the retreat at last. She alighted and followed the two men into the building.
“My dear,” said Doctor Danton, “do not be afraid. I wish you to look at this lady and tell me if you have ever seen her before. This is very important.”
Violet followed him, with a strange feeling of awe creeping over her, into a small, neatly furnished room, where upon a bed a female form lay quietly sleeping. The room was in semi-darkness; but as they entered, the physician threw open the blinds and let a stream of sunlight into the room.
“Come here, Violet,” he said, gently.
She approached the bedside and stood with eyes riveted upon the face which lay upon the pillow, her heart overflowing with a wild delight which nearly suffocated her. For there before her—could it be true?—in an apparently sound slumber, her thin, white hands folded upon her breast, her beautiful face, like the face of a marble statue, lay her own dear mother—Rosamond Arleigh.
CHAPTER XXXV.
VIOLET HEARS THE STORY.