Jess of the Rebel Trail Part 23

"Don't you know? Do you wish me to tell what happened in a private hospital, twenty years ago, and how you exchanged----"

"Stop, stop! For G.o.d's sake, don't say any more!"

"You acknowledge it all, then?"

"How can I deny it? But who told you?"

"Madame," and Grimsby flicked the ashes from his cigarette as he spoke, "when a man has a wife such as mine, sooner or later he learns many interesting things."

"Your wife! What does she know?"

"Evidently too much for your peace of mind."

"But how does she know?"

"Simply because she happened to be Hettie Rawlins before she became Mrs. Grimsby."

"Hettie Rawlins," Mrs. Hampton repeated. "That name sounds familiar.

Where have I heard it before?"

"In that private hospital, madame. She was the girl who exchanged the babies. Surely you have not forgotten her."

"Oh, now I do remember. And she is your wife?"

"She is, unfortunate for her."

"This is all new to me."

"Strange that you should forget her, isn't it?"

"Not at all, I knew her only slightly at the hospital, as she was seldom in my room."

"But long enough to transact a very important business matter, eh?"

"Yes, yes, too long! May G.o.d have mercy upon me for my sin! It is almost more than I can stand."

"But you have stood it well all these years, madame."

"You think so, do you? But you little know what agony of soul I have endured. Oh, it has been terrible!"

"H'm," Grimsby grunted, "it seems to me you have had many compensations, such as the money you received, a fine place like this, a good son, you call your own, and the prospect of making considerable out of your coal mine. Surely they have been a balm to your heart and mind. They would be to mine, anyway."

"No, no, no!" the woman declared. "Nothing can ever take the place of my own sweet baby I so rashly bartered away. I thought so once, fool that I was, but I know better now. No matter how dear another child may become, and John means much to me, it is not one's own flesh and blood. No one but a mother who has suffered can fully understand this.

During the twenty years that have pa.s.sed since my fatal mistake, my baby girl has been ever with me. If alive, she is a young woman now.

She goes by some other name, and calls another woman 'mother.' She does not know of my existence, and even if she heard my name or met me face to face, I would mean nothing to her."

Mrs. Hampton ceased, and looked out over the rippling surface of the n.o.ble St. John. Far down the river her eyes caught the gleam of a white sail, bending to the gentle breeze. She knew that the boat must be the "Eb and Flo," for Mrs. Tobin had called that morning and told her that she was expecting her son and husband home. But it meant nothing to her, neither was she aware of a slight graceful girl standing by the captain's side, asking questions about the various places along the river. Had she but known, how soon her look of indifference would have vanished.

"So you have no knowledge, then, as to your--your daughter's whereabouts?" It was Grimsby speaking, and it aroused her from her reverie.

"None at all. I do not even know the name of the woman who got my baby."

"She was very wealthy, I suppose?"

"I believe so, but----" She suddenly stopped, and an expression of hope leaped into her eyes. "Tell me, do you know where she is? Your wife must know, anyway."

She waited almost breathlessly for a reply, but when Grimsby smiled and shook his head, the light of hope faded from her eyes.

"You don't know?" she asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

"I didn't say that, madame. Maybe I know and maybe I don't. But what good would it do if I should tell where she is? You could not get her back again, no matter how hard you might try. And, besides, she wouldn't want to come. She has been brought up to a life of luxury of which you know nothing. She moves in high social circles, and would be ashamed of you. Suppose she should find out that you are her mother, what would she think if she learned how you sold her for money when she was a helpless baby? Have you thought of that?"

"Stop, stop! For G.o.d's sake don't say any more!" the unhappy woman pleaded. "It is all too true, but I can hardly bear it. I know she would scorn me for what I did. But it would be a comfort if I could look upon her, see her face, and know that she is my child. If I could but feast my eyes upon her even for a few minutes, it would mean everything to me."

"No, madame, you are mistaken. If you saw her once it would make you more dissatisfied than ever. It would only add to your agony of soul, of which you speak."

"So you won't tell me, Gabriel?"

"No, I must not."

"Then why have you come here to-day to torment me? Why have you mentioned my child to me? I believe you know where she is, and yet you will not tell me. What is the meaning of all this?"

"Ah, now you are coming to the point," and Grimsby smilingly rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "I have a definite purpose in coming to see you to-day. I felt that I could not delay any longer. It is a mere matter of business, nothing more."

"Has it anything to do with the mine, Gabriel?"

"Oh, not at all. It is far more important to you than that. It has to do with something that happened twenty years ago. There, now, madame, keep calm. Don't get excited. I see you understand to what I refer, and that is good. Now, how would you like for that to be known?"

"Heavens, man! Are you in earnest? Surely you must be joking."

"Not at all. I was never more in earnest in my life. I merely asked if you would like the above-mentioned transaction made public. That is all I wish to know."

"No, no; it must not be mentioned. For almost twenty years it has been kept a secret, and why should the public know of it now? It would break my heart. I could never face anyone again. And John, who is so dear to me, what would he think? How could I explain? It must not be!

You will not tell, will you?"

Grimsby lighted another cigarette, crossed his legs, and smoked contentedly. He was quite satisfied, so could afford to take his time.

This woman's trouble was nothing to him, and no accusing conscience worried him in the least degree. He was past all that.

"I shall not tell, madame," he at length replied, "that is, providing you make it worth while."

"In what way, Gabriel? What can I do to obtain your silence?"

"There is only one thing that will perform the charm. It has seldom failed. I believe it is still powerful to silence tongues. It will keep mine still, at any rate. Is it hard to guess what that is? You should know of all women, for it proved effective twenty years ago."

Mrs. Hampton started, and looked keenly into the face of the man before her.

"Do you mean money?" she asked. "Is that what will silence your tongue?"

"Ah, I am glad that you have guessed it, madame. It will save unnecessary talk. Yes, it is money, for it is money I need more than anything else."