"Did you?"
"Yes; for one thing, these hands"—regarding them fondly—"never looked as if they really belonged to portly Mrs. Weld, and, several times, you forgot to speak in your coarse, assumed tones; while, that evening, when I captured your hideous blue glasses, and looked into these lovely eyes, I was almost sure that you were not the woman you appeared to be."
"I remember," said her mother, "and I was conscious of your suspicions; but I did not mind, for my mission in that house was almost ended, and I intended, as soon as I could resume my real character, to renew my acquaintance with you, as Mrs. Stewart, and see if I could not persuade you to leave that uncongenial atmosphere and come to me."
"How strange!" murmured Edith.
"It was the motherly instinct reaching out after its own," was the tender response. "But, about my finding the certificate: You remember you offered to put the rooms in order, if I would sew for you meanwhile?"
"Yes."
"Well, that was the time that I learned where that precious paper could be found," and then she proceeded to relate the conversation that she had overheard between Mr. and Mrs. Goddard, and how, emboldened by it, she had afterward gone to the room of the latter to find her in the act of examining the very document she wanted.
She also told how, later, she had gone, by herself, to the room and deliberately taken possession of it.
She also mentioned the incident that had occurred on the same day in the dining-room, when Mr. Goddard had knocked her glasses off and seemed so disconcerted upon looking into her eyes.
"He appeared like one who had suddenly come face to face with some ghost of his past—as indeed he had," she concluded, with a sigh.