o relatives here save a brother poorer
than herself, and the mother instinct had not awakened. She bartered her
child away as she would have parted with any other encumbrance likely to
interfere with her career. But--here her voice rose and I heard
distinctly: "A fortune was suddenly left me. An old admirer dying abroad
bequeathed me two million dollars, and I found myself rich, admired and
independent, with no one on earth to care for or to share the happiness
of what seemed to me, after the brilliant life I had hitherto led, a
dreary inaction. Love had no interest for me. I had had a husband, and
that part of my nature had been satisfied. What I wanted now--and the
wish presently grew into a passion--was my child. From passion it grew
to mania. Knowing the name of her to whom I had yielded it (I had
overheard it in the doctor's office), I hunted up your residence and
came one day to Homewood.

"Perhaps some old servant can be found there to-day who could tell you
of the strange, deeply veiled lady who was found one evening at sunset,
clinging to the gate with both hands and sobbing as she looked in at the
triumphant little heiress racing up and down the walks with the great
mastiff, Don. They will say that it was some poor crazy woman, or some
mother who had buried her own little darling; but it was I, Marion, it
was I, looking upon the child I had sold for a half-year's independence;
I who was broken-hearted now for her smiles and touches and saw them all
given to strangers, who had made her a princess, but who could never
give her such love as I felt for her then in my madness. I went away
that time, but I came again soon with the titles of the adjoining
property in my pocket. I could not keep away from the sight of her, and
felt that the torture would be less to see her in your arms than not to
see her at all."

The answer was not audible, but I could well imagine what it was. As
every one knew, the false mother had not long held out against the
attractions of the true one. Instinct had drawn the little one to the
heart that beat responsive to its own.

What followed I could best judge from the frightened cry which the child
suddenly gave. She had evidently waked to find both women at her
bedside. Mrs. Carew's "Hush! hush!" did not answer this time; the child
was in a frenzy, and evidently turned from one to the other, sobbing out
alternately, "I will not be a girl again. I like my horse and going to
papa and sa