The selected letter was long, and there was an enclosure folded in tissue paper that might be a photograph.
Barbara, standing by the bed, noted that her mistress's pale cheek became flushed as she read on, and her eager looks showed that the contents of the letter stirred her deeply. When she had finished, she unfolded the paper and gazed with delighted admiration on the photograph. Then turning with a look of positive awe to the nurse, she said, "Barbara, something like a miracle has happened; this letter contains the offer of a child. She is a girl, seven and a half years old, and with the face of an angel. Look at it."
So saying, Mrs. Austin placed the photograph in Barbara's hand, and remained in dreamy absorbed silence, as if lost in wonder at what had come to pass.
"If this likeness tells truth, she is a beauty to look at; and, oh! If she is only as good as she is pretty, there will be nothing to desire!" exclaimed the nurse, in honest admiration of the lovely child face it portrayed. "Surely this is a true Godsend to you in your difficulty, dear mistress."
"I believe it, Barbara; and now I must tell you whose child this is: you remember Edward Austin, who caused my husband a great deal of trouble soon after we were married."
"I may well remember him,"' said the nurse, and drew herself up, as that name was mentioned, with a look of righteous indignation on her face; for the man, a wild, unprincipled spendthrift, had persecuted Barbara Molesworth, then a handsome girl of twenty-one, with unwelcome attentions, which had only been stopped by her master's interference.
"He is dead, Barbara," said Mrs. Austin, gently.
The indignant look gave way to one of pity as she heard the news, and Barbara replied, "I hope he had become a changed man before the last call came."
"I am afraid not, Barbara. From time to time I have helped him, not because there was any claim of kindred, for though he bore my husband's name, the cousinship was so distant as to be hardly traceable. His wife died two years ago, leaving a child; and the only bright spot in Edward Austin's character was love for his little daughter, and concern for her future. She has been cared for by a friend of her mother's until now, the child having been left penniless. The good woman has other and nearer claims, and having been informed that Edward Austin was a relative of my husband's, she has written to ask if I will do something for the orphan. I could not refuse in any case, but, situated as I am, this letter seems the most wonderful answer to my yearning prayers."
Mrs. Austin's face, lighted with hope and thankfulness, was beautiful to see, but there was no reflection of those feelings in the countenance of Barbara Molesworth.