late now, and the past may
as well be covered out of sight."

"Where, then, was my baby buried?" asked Edith, with a calm resolution
of manner that was not to be denied.

"I do not know. I did not care at the time, and never asked."

"Who can tell me?"

"I don't know."

"Who took my baby to nurse?"

"I have forgotten the woman's name. All I know is that she is dead. When
the child died, I sent her money, and told her to bury it decently."

"Where did she live?"

"I never knew precisely. Somewhere down town."

"Who brought her here? who recommended her?" said Edith, pushing her
inquiries rapidly.

"I have forgotten that also," replied Mrs. Dinneford, maintaining her
coldness of manner.

"My nurse, I presume," said Edith. "I have a faint recollection of
her--a dark little woman with black eyes whom I had never seen before.
What was her name?"

"Bodine," answered Mrs. Dinneford, without a moment's hesitation.

"Where does she live?"

"She went to Havana with a Cuban lady several months ago."

"Do you know the lady's name?"

"It was Casteline, I think."

Edith questioned no further. The mother and daughter were still sitting
together, both deeply absorbed in thought, when a servant opened the
door and said to Mrs. Dinneford,

"A lady wishes to see you."

"Didn't she give you her card?"

"No ma'am."

"Nor send up her name?"

"No, ma'am."

"Go down and ask her name."

The servant left the room. On returning, she said,

"Her name is Mrs. Bray."

Mrs. Dinneford turned her face quickly, but not in time to prevent Edith
from seeing by its expression that she knew her visitor, and that her
call was felt to be an unwelcome one. She went from the room without
speaking. On entering the parlor, Mrs. Dinneford said, in a low, hurried
voice,

"I don't want you to come here, Mrs. Bray. If you wish to see me send me
word, and I will call on you, but you must on no account come here."

"Why? Is anything wrong?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"Edith isn't satisfied about the baby, has been out to Fairview looking
for its grave, wants to know who her nurse was."

"What did you tell her?"

"I said that your name was Mrs. Bodine, and that you had gone to Cuba."

"Do you think she would know me?"

"Can't tell; wouldn't like to run the risk of her seeing you here. Pull
down your veil. There! close. She said, a little while ago, that she had
a faint recollection of you as a dark little woman with black eyes w