|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 29
"My God!" he cried. "What can be the meaning of
this?"
"I will tell you the meaning of it," cried the lady,
sweeping into the room with a proud, set face. "You
have forced me, against my own judgment, to tell you,
and now we must both make the best of it. My husband
died at Atlanta. My child survived."
"Your child?"
She drew a large silver locket from her bosom. "You
have never seen this open."
"I understood that it did not open."
She touched a spring, and the front hinged back.
There was a portrait within of a man strikingly
handsome and intelligent-looking, but bearing
unmistakable signs upon his features of his African
descent.
"That is John Hebron, of Atlanta," said the lady, "and
a nobler man never walked the earth. I cut myself off
from my race in order to wed him, but never once while
he lived did I for an instant regret it. It was our
misfortune that our only child took after his people
rather than mine. It is often so in such matches, and
little Lucy is darker far than ever her father was.
But dark or fair, she is my own dear little girlie,
and her mother's pet." The little creature ran across
at the words and nestled up against the lady's dress.
"When I left her in America," she continued, "it was
only because her health was weak, and the change might
have done her harm. She was given to the care of a
faithful Scotch woman who had once been our servant.
Never for an instant did I dream of disowning her as
my child. But when chance threw you in my way, Jack,
and I learned to love you, I feared to tell you about
my child. God forgive me, I feared that I should lose
you, and I had not the courage to tell you. I had to
choose between you, and in my weakness I turned away
from my own little girl. For three years I have kept
her existence a secret from you, but I heard from the
nurse, and I knew that all was well with her. At
last, however, there came an overwhelming desire to
see the child once more. I struggled against it, but
in vain. Though I knew the danger, I determined to
have the child over, if it were but for a few weeks.
I sent a hundred pounds to the nurse, and I gave her
instructions about this cottage, so that she might
come as a neighbor, without my appearing to be in any
way connected with her. I pushed my precautions so
far as to order her to keep the child in the house
during the daytime, and to cover up her little face
and hands so that even those who might see her at the
window should not gossip about there being a black
child in the neighborhood. If I had been less
cautious I might have been more wise, but I was half
crazy with fear that you should learn the truth.
"It was you who told me first that the cottage was
occupied. I should have waited for the morning, but I
could not sleep for excitement, and so at last I
slipped out, knowing how difficult it is to awake you.
But you saw me go, and that was the beginning of my
troubles. Next day you had my secret at your mercy,
but you nobly refrained from pursuing your advantage.
Three days later, however, the nurse and child only
just escaped from the back door as you rushed in at
the front one. And now to-night you at last know all,
and I ask you what is to become of us, my child and
me?" She clasped her hands and waited for an answer.
It was a long ten minutes before Grant Munro broke the
silence, and when his answer came it was one of which
I love to think. He lifted the little child, kissed
her, and then, still carrying her, he held his other
hand out to his wife and turned towards the door.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|