eagerly those brown eyes looked up as hattie entered mrs. emory’s chamber, and in the yearning look, even in the features, hattie recognized a resemblance to jessie albemarle.

“oh, thank you, miss butler. i am so glad you have come,” said mrs. emory, in a low, tremulous voice. “i have something to ask you, and then perhaps a long, strange story to tell you in all confidence.”

“your confidence, dear madam, shall not be misplaced, and i will answer any question you ask, if it be in my power to do so.”

“thank you, dear, i feel that it is so. lock the door, please. i do not wish to be interrupted by any one while we are together. then come and sit here close by my side. do not fear that i shall faint again. it was a sudden shock that caused it before; but now i am prepared and calm.”

hattie locked the door, and then seated herself, as desired, close to mrs. emory.

“you spoke a name yesterday—a name very, very dear to me,” said mrs. emory. “you see it here, engraved on a golden necklace, which was once worn by a little child.”

hattie started in spite of herself. was that the necklace that miss scrimp had spoken of? for on it she saw the name of “jessie albemarle” engraved.

“you start. have you ever heard of this necklace or seen it before?” asked mrs. emory, eagerly.

[136]

“if it was once on the neck of an infant left at the orphan asylum by unknown parties i have heard of it,” said hattie.

“it was. now tell me—oh, tell me quick, if you know. is that child yet living?”

“she is, dear lady.”

“where—where—tell me, i implore you! i am that child’s mother!”

“i have thought so ever since i met you, dear lady,” said hattie. “this very morning i was looking in jessie’s brown eyes and studying her features, and i never saw a stronger resemblance than you bear to each other.”

“this morning? this morning you saw her?” gasped mrs. emory, trembling with excitement.

“yes, madam, and you can soon see her. but please be calm, or you will have another attack.”

“oh! i will be calm. but the thought of seeing her, knowing she is alive, is almost too much happiness. tell me, is she good, pure, like yourself?”

“she is good and pure, mrs. emory. for two years and more i have seen her every day, and have had the good fortune to render her more than one kindness and to protect her from the abuse of a cruel mistress.”

“our father in heaven will reward you for it.”

“did you not, nearly two years ago—i do not know exactly the time, however—call at a house where this poor girl had been bound out, to inquire after her?” asked hattie.

“yes, i had just found out, by a long-concealed paper, where my first husband, her father, had taken her when i was helplessly ill. to get rid of her care he pretended she was dead, and so i mourned her, until at last, by accident, after his[137] death, i found his confession, in which he stated where he had left her, also that on her neck he had left the necklace i had caused to be made when we named her. i went there to the asylum as soon as i could, and the matron gave me the address of the woman who had taken her. i went there, and the woman told me she had run away from her, and she knew not, cared not, where she was. my agony of disappointment threw me into a long fit of sickness, and i had almost given up a hope of ever seeing my child. the authorities at the asylum went to the woman, and her report to them was the same as to me. all i could get to identify my dear babe was this necklace and some clothes i had made for her to be christened in, which were on her when her unnatural father took her away, and left her to the charity of strangers. oh, how soon can i clasp her in my arms!”

“if you were able to ride, within the hour,” said hattie.

“oh, i am well. i am strong now. let me order the carriage at once.”

hattie saw that though she believed herself strong she was yet very weak. her pallor and tremulous action showed that. and hattie had another fear. she knew miss scrimp would hide jessie away rather than let her go, if she could, or dared to do it. and she was at heart almost bad enough to do anything. and hattie knew that there must be a regular way to force miss scrimp at once to yield up the poor girl, without hattie herself using the hold she had upon her.

“can you ride with mr. legare and myself first to the asylum, and get from the superintendent there an order for the child as her mother?” asked hattie.

[138]

“oh, yes—that is the way. my brother-in-law knows the whole story, as i have told it to you, although, for reasons of our own, we have kept it from frank and lizzie.”

“then let me ring for mr. legare. the poor girl is at my boarding-house, and before the sun sets on this day, please heaven, she shall be in your arms.”

“heaven must reward you. i never, never can!” sobbed mrs. emory.

hattie opened the door, called a servant, and in a few moments mr. legare was in the room.

he wondered at the joyous light which shone in the eyes of his dear sister; but the happy story was soon told, and he now knew also that his sister had fainted the night before when told she was looking on the portrait of her lost child.

“the ways of providence are inscrutable, mysterious, but they ever lead aright,” said mr. legare. “who would have thought that my chance acquaintance with miss butler, through those old books, could lead to this happy result? my dear young lady, we owe you a debt of gratitude which it seems impossible to repay. sister, take some refreshment to strengthen you, and soon we will be on our way to reclaim your long-lost loved one.”

and now lizzie and frank were sent in by their father, for the story was no longer a family secret.

“you are to have a real cousin now,” said hattie to lizzie, after the story was told.

“but she’ll not be like you. i shall never love her half so well,” sighed lizzie.

“she is a sweet girl, and very smart, for the chances she has had. it will take but a little while, with good teachers, to make her one to be really proud of.”

[139]

mr. legare and mrs. emory were now ready, and with hattie they went out to the carriage.

it was astonishing to see the change in the lately invalid lady. new hope, new joys, new life beamed in her eyes—her very step was elastic and happy.

“this is better than medicine. we’ll have to discharge the doctor, and keep you with us,” said mr. legare to hattie, as the carriage dashed away to its destination.

“we will keep her,” said mrs. emory. “i had intended to adopt her in place of my lost child, and now i will have two daughters instead of one.”

tears arose in hattie’s eyes, but she made no reply then.