“Are there such women in the world!” Mrs. Linley exclaimed. “Where is your mother now?”
“In America—I think.”
“You think?”
“My mother married again,” said Sydney. “She went to America with her husband and my little brother, six years ago.”
“And left you behind?”
“Yes.”
“And has she never written to you?”
“Never.”
This time, Mrs. Linley kept silence; not without an effort. Thinking of Sydney’s mother—and for one morbid moment seeing her own little darling in Sydney’s place—she was afraid to trust herself to speak while the first impression was vividly present to her mind.
“I will only hope,” she replied, after waiting a little, “that some kind person pitied and helped you when you were deserted. Any change must have been for the better after that. Who took charge of you?”