“To ME,” said his cousin, starting with real astonishment. “What could I do with a child, and a child who could never see her father again if she were to live with me? How old is she?”
“I don’t justly remember,” said Ned.
“Is there a race-horse in the city whose age you don’t remember? How long did it take you to kill your wife—do you know that? How long have you been a drunkard and a devil? How long have you eaten when your wife and child starved? How long have you hid them where even I could not find them—can you tell me that, you decently dressed vagabond? I’ll warrant your wife is clad as warmly in her grave as she was out of it.”
Ned could answer nothing. He was a wretch—and he had the good sense to know it. He had not the slightest respect for himself, but he wanted his child taken care of; then, if he had a pint of brandy, and six feet of rope, he thought he would comfort himself with the brandy, and hang himself with the rope; but then he had a great liking for cards and a decent rig, and it is probable that while luck, or loaded dice, gave him broadcloth and brandy, he would have laid up the rope against a lack of either, which he would have considered a decided reverse of fortune.
“I promised my wife that I would give the girl to you. If you will take her, I will go to the South, and never show my face here again.”
“What on earth am I to do with a child? My old blind aunt can’t see to herself and me—how is she to take care of another? But it is a temptation to be rid of you. How does the girl look?”
The father was again at a loss.
“Oh, you don’t know—what color is Kenny’s horse, Eclipse? How many hands high is he, and how old? How far can he run in ten minutes and thirteen seconds?”
“Once for all—will you take the girl?” said the man whose life was exhausted by dissipation and excitement into an apathy that resembled patience. “She will have to go to the Almshouse if you don’t, and your blood is in her veins. She is your grandmother’s grandchild.”
“I would like you to be the only one of our blood who should die in the Almshouse; but I say again—what am I to do with the child? I can only take her as a servant.”