It seemed to Ida that it took ages for the woman to reply. She leaned forward breathlessly, fairly devouring her with her dark, dilated eyes.
"Oh, no! the baby did not die," said Mrs. Lester, "although it was a weak, puny little thing.
"I'll just tell you all about it, for I feel just like talking it over with some one.
"The child required so much care that my husband decided we could not keep it, and I was on my way to take it back to the foundling asylum in New York, when the strangest thing happened.
"In the depot I met a young man who used to live in the village. His name is Royal Ainsley."
"Yes! yes!" interposed Ida, faintly, feeling almost more dead than alive.
"I was telling him all about the baby, showing him the letters that came with it, and the proofs I had of its identity, when he suddenly exclaimed:
"'I will tell you in a few words what I'll do. I'll take this little one back to New York, and save you the trip!'
"He offered me one hundred dollars to give him the child then and there. We are very poor, Mrs. Mallard, and a hundred dollars seemed a fortune to me.
"It's over a fortnight since that occurred, but I have not ceased to worry about it, I assure you."
Young Mrs. Mallard suddenly staggered to her feet and turned away.
"I think I will not wait any longer," said Ida, in a strangely altered voice. "Good-morning, Mrs. Lester!"
[228]
The next moment she hurried down the garden-path, and entered her carriage.
Like one wild with terror, Ida hurried back to the carriage and re-entered it.
"Home!" she said; and old Joe was surprised at the sound of her voice, it was so unnatural.
"What Royal Ainsley told me is indeed too true!" she said to herself, with an inward moan. "He has possession of my little child. Only Heaven knows how he will use his power to crush me, and the fair, sweet, innocent babe as well!"
It seemed to her as though the very thought of it would drive her mad. She knew she was in his power, and that he would certainly use that power to extort every dollar from her that he possibly could. And then, when there was no more money to be gained, what would he do?
She avoided Eugene Mallard during the next few days, lest he should repeat the question he had asked when he last talked with her.
He watched her in wonder. Her apparent coyness amused as well as surprised him.
"There is no way of understanding women," he said to himself. "To-day they are eager for something; to-morrow they will not have it!"
He was surprised when he received a message from her one day, asking him if she could see him alone in the library.
He sent back a reply in the affirmative, and awaited her coming with some curiosity, no doubt entering his mind as to what she wished to say.
It was some time before she put in an appearance. He was not aware of her presence, he was gazing so intently out of the window, until she stood by his side.
[229]
"Mr. Mallard," she began, hesitatingly, "please pardon me for intruding upon you; but I could not wait."
He looked down wonderingly at the lovely young face so strangely pale.
"Would it not be as well for my wife to address me as Eugene?" he asked, with a grave smile.
She looked up at him and tried to utter the word; but somehow it seemed as though she could not.
My wife!
How those words cut her! If they had been the sharp thrust of a sword, they could not have cut her deeper.
His wife!
She would have given everything in this world if indeed it were true that she was Eugene Mallard's wife.
Another face rose before her vision—a fair, handsome, sneering face—and she drew back with a shudder.
He noticed it, and the kindly words he was about to utter were hushed on his lips.
After placing a chair for her, and taking one near it, he waited for her to proceed.
"I—I have come to ask your indulgence in a little matter," she said, faintly.
"Yes?" he said, kindly.
For a moment there was silence between them—a deep, painful, awkward silence, which was broken at length by Ida.
"I have been looking over some furniture," she said, tremulously, "and—and I could use just double the amount of money you gave me. Would you be very, very angry if I asked you for a thousand dollars more?"
He threw back his head and laughed outright.
"One would think, by the manner in which you express[230] yourself, that you were suing for some great favor, the granting of which you doubted."
She looked at him with dilated eyes, the color coming and going in her face.
She could not understand, by his remark, whether or not he intended giving it to her.
He turned at once to his desk, saying:
"I will write out a check for the amount you wish."
"No; not a check, please," she answered, piteously. "I would so much rather have the money."
He looked surprised.
"I haven't the amount you wish," he said. "I have not half that amount probably. I always use checks in preference to carrying money about with me."
He was quite mystified at the look of terror that crept into her eyes.
"I must have it in cash," she said, imploringly. "Could you not get it for me somehow?"
"Yes—certainly," he replied. "When will you want it?"
"To-night," she answered, piteously.
"You shall have it," he answered.
But there flashed through his mind a suspicion he would have given anything to have removed.