Cast Adrift. T. S. Arthur

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      “Mrs. Bray, the servant said.”

      “No, Mrs. Gray.”

      “I understood her to say Mrs. Bray.”

      “I can't help what you understood.” The mother spoke with some asperity of manner. “She calls herself Gray, but you can have it anything you please; it won't change her identity.”

      “What did she want?”

      “To see me.”

      “I know.” Edith was turning away with an expression on her face that Mrs. Dinneford did not like, so she said,

      “She is in trouble, and wants me to help her, if you must know. She used to be a dressmaker, and worked for me before you were born; she got married, and then her troubles began. Now she is a widow with a house full of little children, and not half bread enough to feed them. I've helped her a number of times already, but I'm getting tired of it; she must look somewhere else, and I told her so.”

      Edith turned from her mother with an unsatisfied manner, and went up stairs. Mrs. Dinneford was surprised, not long afterward, to meet her at her chamber door, dressed to go out. This was something unusual.

      “Where are you going?” she asked, not concealing her surprise.

      “I have a little errand out,” Edith replied.

      This was not satisfactory to her mother. She asked other questions, but Edith gave only evasive answers.

      On leaving the house, Edith walked quickly, like one in earnest about something; her veil was closely drawn. Only a few blocks from where she lived was the office of Dr. Radcliffe. Hither she directed her steps.

      “Why, Edith, child!” exclaimed the doctor, not concealing the surprise he felt at seeing her. “Nobody sick, I hope?”

      “No one,” she answered.

      There was a momentary pause; then Edith said, abruptly,

      “Doctor, what became of my baby?”

      “It died,” answered Doctor Radcliffe, but not without betraying some confusion. The question had fallen upon him too suddenly.

      “Did you see it after it was dead?” She spoke in a firm voice, looking him steadily in the face.

      “No,” he replied, after a slight hesitation.

      “Then how do you know that it died?” Edith asked.

      “I had your mother's word for it,” said the doctor.

      “What was done with my baby after it was born?”

      “It was given out to nurse.”

      “With your consent?”

      “I did not advise it. Your mother had her own views in the case. It was something over which I had no control.”

      “And you never saw it after it was taken away?”

      “Never.”

      “And do not really know whether it be dead or living?”

      “Oh, it's dead, of course, my child. There is no doubt of that,” said the doctor, with sudden earnestness of manner.

      “Have you any evidence of the fact?”

      “My dear, dear child,” answered the doctor, with much feeling, “it is all wrong. Why go back over this unhappy ground? why torture yourself for nothing? Your baby died long ago, and is in heaven.”

      “Would God I could believe it!” she exclaimed, in strong agitation. “If it were so, why is not the evidence set before me? I question my mother; I ask for the nurse who was with me when my baby was born, and for the nurse to whom it was given afterward, and am told that they are dead or out of the country. I ask for my baby's grave, but it cannot be found. I have searched for it where my mother told me it was, but the grave is not there. Why all this hiding and mystery? Doctor, you said that my baby was in heaven, and I answered, 'Would God it were so!' for I saw a baby in hell not long ago!”

      The doctor was scared. He feared that Edith was losing her mind, she looked and spoke so wildly.

      “A puny, half-starved, half-frozen little thing, in the arms of a drunken beggar,” she added. “And, doctor, an awful thought has haunted me ever since.”

      “Hush, hush!” said the doctor, who saw what was in her mind. “You must not indulge such morbid fancies.”

      “It is that I may not indulge them that I have come to you. I want certainty, Dr. Radcliffe. Somebody knows all about my baby. Who was my nurse?”

      “I never saw her before the night of your baby's birth, and have never seen her since. Your mother procured her.”

      “Did you hear her name?”

      “No.”

      “And so you cannot help me at all?” said Edith, in a disappointed voice.

      “I cannot, my poor child,” answered the doctor.

      All the flush and excitement died out of Edith's face. When she arose to go, she was pale and haggard, like one exhausted by pain, and her steps uneven, like the steps of an invalid walking for the first time. Dr. Radcliffe went with her in silence to the door.

      “Oh, doctor,” said Edith, in a choking voice, as she lingered a moment on the steps, “can't you bring out of this frightful mystery something for my heart to rest upon? I want the truth. Oh, doctor, in pity help me to find the truth!”

      “I am powerless to help you,” the doctor replied. “Your only hope lies in your mother. She knows all about it; I do not.”

      And he turned and left her standing at the door. Slowly she descended the steps, drawing her veil as she did so about her face, and walked away more like one in a dream than conscious of the tide of life setting so strongly all about her.

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

      MEANTIME, obeying the unwelcome summons, Mrs. Dinneford had gone to see Mrs. Bray. She found her in a small third-story room in the lower part of the city, over a mile away from her own residence. The meeting between the two women was not over-gracious, but in keeping with their relations to each other. Mrs. Dinneford was half angry and impatient; Mrs. Bray cool and self-possessed.

      “And now what is it you have to say?” asked the former, almost as soon as she had entered.

      “The woman to whom you gave that baby was here yesterday.”

      A frightened expression came into Mrs. Dinneford's face. Mrs. Bray watched СКАЧАТЬ