"Possibly, if your cousin had not seen the advertisement in the Times, you would never have known anything about your legacy?"
"I think that very probable indeed. I was advertised for under my maiden name, and except my cousin (who, I believe, prides himself on the fact that nothing in the Times escapes him), few, if any, of those now living who knew me before my marriage would be likely to see it, or, if they should see it, would know where to find me."
Although Mrs. Jenwyn had made up her mind to a certain course, she seemed in no special hurry to carry her purpose into effect. Indeed, she was one of those women who never appear to hurry; she could always afford to bide her time.
Besides, in the present case, a few days--or, for that matter, a few weeks or a few months--would make no difference. She told herself that she would not make an opportunity, but wait till one should come to her. Perhaps she was not without a lingering doubt as to the spirit in which Anna might receive her communication, and was not disinclined to let matters go on as they were for a little while longer.
Of one thing she felt sure--that nothing could ever be quite the same as it had been when once her lips should have been unsealed and her secret have passed from her own keeping.
Her opportunity, or what seemed such, came on a certain afternoon when the weather, would not admit of their going out, and she and Anna were seated by the window, one busy with her sewing, the other with her knitting.
The maid had just been in to ask leave to go and visit her mother, who was said to be dying. The girl had been in deep distress.
"I have sometimes wondered, Tetta," said Anna presently, "whether it is harder for a mother to lose her child or for a child to lose its mother. I am not referring to cases like Charlotte's, where the child is grown up; although, if tears are anything to go by, she seems extremely attached to her mother."
"A great deal depends on circumstances. When a mother loses her only child, or one of two, it may reasonably be assumed that she feels the loss far more than she would do if she had other children left to comfort her. Again, where a child loses its mother while still at a tender age, it is not to be expected that the loss can seem such an irreparable one as it would do at a later period, when it is old enough not only to appreciate her love, but to reciprocate it in full measure."
"It was my misfortune to lose my mother when I was at a very tender age," said Anna presently, in a low voice.