"But, you see, if I had been the nurse's child as she thought, the poor nurse who was dead, it would be a brave and tender act----"

"I have no pity for her. You must come away. Oh, Marguerite, there is your own sweet mother, who when she hears will want to clasp you to her heart at once. And Zaidee, your twin sister----"

She shrank and stiffened a little. Zaidee Crawford would not be so glad to welcome her. She felt it in her inmost heart. For she had been the pet and darling of the household all these years. All the girls had paid her a curious sort of homage. She had been invested with a halo of romance, and generous as she seemed with her equals, she had established a rigorous distance between them. Lilian fancied she was annoyed by the suggestion of a resemblance between them.

Her father was momentarily piqued by the unyielding lines of her figure and the hesitancy.

"Oh, my child you must take in the strength, the absolute reality of our claim, unless you cannot believe this woman--"

"I would stake my very life on her truth, and I can recall so many things that seemed strange to me then, especially these last two years.

She so dreaded leaving me alone in the world, and I am not willing to embitter her last moments. You see she never thought of my parents being in a much higher walk in life, and the knowledge that she had kept me out of so much would be a cruel stab. No, let me wait until it is all over, and you have accepted the strange story truly. There are others beside yourself----"

Her eyes were full of tears as she raised them. It _was_ n.o.ble to take this view, though he really grudged it.

"You mean then to stay here until--"

"I have promised sacredly, solemnly. There may be some things to certify. Mrs. Barrington spoke of one, that the confession, ought to be signed before witnesses."

"Yes, though we should never doubt. And if there was any question there might be a legal adoption;" then he paused. His wife had not heard the story yet. Yes, his anger had hurried him along with scarcely a thought of all that needed to be done. He had dreamed of the joy of bringing the mother and daughter together. Yes, she must be prepared.

"Perhaps you are right," he admitted, reluctantly. "Yet--oh, how can I leave you. It seems as if the joy would vanish."

"I do not think I shall vanish," and she half smiled through her tears.

The doctor came downstairs with a grave face.

"There has been a sudden change. The paralysis has crept upward. She is moaning for you. Go to her."

Lilian flashed out of the room.

"Are you convinced?" asked the doctor.

"Oh, positively. And what a n.o.ble girl! I hate to have her love that woman so, and yet it shows a true and generous nature. Why, I think some girls would have gone wild over the prospect."

"Mrs. Barrington is enthusiastic about her and she has had a wide experience with girls. But my dear Major, there is a good deal to be done. Your wife must hear the story, and we must consider _her_ health, her nervous system must not have too severe a shock. And this Mrs. Boyd must attest her confession in some way. She can hardly speak intelligibly. With your permission, I'll hunt up Ledwith. It's best to have everything secure."

"Yes, yes. And, doctor, I want to apologize for my anger and unreason this morning. Why, we are half brutes after all. I believe I could have almost murdered that woman for stealing my darling baby and sneaking off without a word of inquiry. I do not yet see how Marguerite can forgive her for keeping her out off her birthright all these years; for dragging her through poverty and all kinds of menial labor; and here she was the caretaker's daughter! Think of it--my child, Zay's sister! Even now when the child pleads for her so earnestly I cannot really forgive her. Will you pardon me for my outbreak? My child is tenderer and more generous than I."

"The poor woman has come to the last stages. It is a matter of only a few days. It would be cruel to part them now."

"You are all against me," with a sad smile.

"You must go home and explain this matter to Mrs. Crawford, and to your sister. Then send the confession to Ledwith. I will see him. And, oh, I promised to drop in and see Zay. She has some nervous crochet in her head."

"Is she really ill?" the father asked in alarm.

"She has some cold and a little fever. Don't excite her."

They walked away together. The doctor found Zay's fever much higher and she was in a state of great excitement.

"Oh, what has happened," she cried. "What was papa so angry about? And you took him away----"

"A matter of business that he could not look at reasonably at first. And it may be a delightful surprise for you, so you must do your utmost to get well. Men have many bothers, my dear."

"It was not about Vincent?"

"Oh, dear, no. There was a telegram from him. He reached West Point all right, and all is going well. Now, I shall give you a composing draught and order you to sleep all the afternoon."

"And the fever?" tremulously.

"That's simply cold and nervousness. You will be about well tomorrow,"

and he laughed.

"Mrs. Barrington was--oh, I suppose the girls who stayed had a dull time."

"I didn't hear any complaints. I guess they are all right. Don't you worry about them or anybody."

If she could hear that Louie Howe was well; maybe Phil would write tomorrow. Oh, she couldn't be seriously ill or the doctor wouldn't be so indifferent about it. If she only could go to sleep and forget about the Clairvoyant's awful den!

CHAPTER XII

OH, WILL I BE WELCOME?

There was a late luncheon and then the Major returned to his wife's sitting room where Aunt Kate was keeping her company with some exquisite needlework for her darling, Zay, who had insisted upon being left alone.

"I have a curious story to read to you that concerns us all. I am glad to have you here, Kate, as a sort of ballast. It was what excited me so this morning and I was very unreasonable. The doctor threatened to put me in a straight jacket."

Aunt Kate laughed. Mrs. Crawford studied her husband intently.

"Oh, go on with your work. I shall feel more composed." He turned his chair a little, ostensibly for the light, but so that his wife might not watch his face.

He began with Mrs. Boyd's list of misfortunes after her few years of happiness and her resolve to go out to her brother's. At times he stumbled over the poor penmanship and halted.

"Why, it must have been the train I was on," interrupted Mrs. Crawford.

"I remember there was a woman with a delicate looking child. I believe ours were the only two babies. Oh, if I had not taken my little darling!

But she was so well and strong, such a fine happy baby, and nurse Jane was so good."

Mrs. Boyd had hurried briefly over the terrible collision.

"Everett," interrupted his sister with an indignant emphasis, "why recall that awful happening. It can do us no good now."

Mrs. Crawford leaned her head on her hand and balanced her elbow on the broad arm of the chair.

The Major's voice shook slightly. Mrs. Boyd had been quite graphic about her calling for the baby, her care of it from midnight to the next morning and settling her mind to what the woman had said; her resolve to keep the child when she heard the other mother had been killed. She sprang up suddenly.