‘I was sure you would come round to my views. There are, I know, mothers, miserable creatures that they are! who could live without seeing their children; but you are not of them, Agnes, you are not of them.’
‘Do not misunderstand me,’ I exclaimed; ‘I wish to see my children—merely to see them, but the darlings shall not know I have beheld them—and John and my sister shall not know that I am alive.’
‘But you will have to call at the house to see them,’ said Mrs. Lee.
‘I will visit Bath and return to you,’ said I, caressing her hand. ‘Bear with me, dearest friend. Let me have my way.’
‘You shall have your way,’ she exclaimed. ‘I shall do nothing and say nothing to hinder you. When do you wish to go?’
‘To-day.’
‘I will find out how much money you need. How long do you mean to stop?’
‘Until I have caught sight of my children,’ I answered. ‘One look at them—to see if they are well—to see how much they have grown——’
‘Well,’ said she, ‘let us hope, my dear, for your sake that the children are in Bath. You may have to wait some days before you obtain a glimpse of them, and if you are constantly about the house will not you be noticed, and excite suspicion? But I wish to say nothing to hinder you. If it will comfort you to get a sight of your children, then, my dear, go; and should you be kept waiting, write to me and I will remit as much money as you may think needful. But suppose your memory should fail you?’
‘I will take care of that,’ said I, ‘by putting down my name and your name and address and other matters on a card. I can never be at a loss if I have such a card to refer to.’