" Courage, ma'am! I think not. Our
chance rests on our power to make Barsham
and his mother confess; and Mr. Forley's death,
by leaving them helpless, seems to put that
power into our hands. With your permission,
I will not wait till dusk to-day, as I at
first intended, but will make sure of those
two people at once. With a policeman in plain
clothes to watch the house, in case they try to
leave it; with this card to vouch for the fact of
Mr. Forley's death; and with a bold
acknowledgment on my part of having got
possession of their secret, and of being ready to use
it against them in case of need, I think there
little doubt of bringing Barsham and his
mother to terms. In case I find it impossible
to get back here before dusk, please to sit
near the window, ma'am, and watch the
house, a little before they light the
streetlamps. If you see the front-door open and
close again, will you be good enough to put
on your bonnet, and come across to me
immediately? Mr. Forley's death may, or
may not, prevent his messenger from coming
as arranged. But, if the person does come, it
is of importance that you, as a relative of
Mr. Forley's, should be present to see him,
and to have that proper influence over him
which I cannot pretend to exercise."

The only words I could say to Trottle as
he opened the door and left me, were words
charging him to take care that no harm
happened to the poor forlorn little boy.

Left alone, I drew my chair to the window;
and looked out with a beating heart at the
guilty house. I waited and waited through
what appeared to me to be be an endless time,
until I heard the wheels of a cab stop
at the end of the street. I looked in that
direction, and saw Trottle get out of the cab
alone, walk up to the House, and knock at
the door. He was let in by Barsham's
mother. A minute or two later, a decently-dressed
man sauntered past the house, looked
up at it for a moment, and sauntered on to
the corner of the street close by. Here he
leant against the post, and lighted a cigar, and
stopped there smoking in an idle way, but
keeping his face always turned in the
direction of the house-door.

I waited and waited still. I waited and
waited, my eyes riveted to the door of
the house. At last I thought I saw it open
in the dusk, and then felt sure I heard it
shut again softly. Though I tried hard
to compose myself, I trembled so that I was
obliged to call for Peggy to help me on
with my bonnet and cloak, and was forced to
take her arm to lean on, in crossing the
street.

Trottle opened the door to us, before we
could knock. Peggy went back, and I went
in. He had a lighted candled in his hand.

"It has happened ma'am, as I thought it
would," he whispered, leading me into the
bare, comfortless, empty parlour. "Barsham
and his mother have consulted their own
interests, and have come to terms. My
guess-work is guess-work no longer. It is
now what I felt it was—Truth!"

Something strange to me—something
which women who are mothers must often
know—trembled suddenly in my heart, and
brought the warm tears of my youthful days
thronging back into my eyes. I took my
faithful old servant by the hand, and asked
him to let me see Mrs. Kirkland's child, for
his mother's sake.

"If you desire it, ma'am," said Trottle,
with a gentleness of manner that I had never
noticed in him before. " But pray don't
think rne wanting in duty and right feeling,
if I beg you to try and wait a little. You
are agitated already, and the first meeting
with the child will not help to make you so
calm, as you would wish to be, if Mr Forley's
messenger comes. The little boy is safe
upstairs. Pray think of trying to compose
yourself for a meeting with a stranger; and
believe me you shall not leave the house
afterwards without the child."

I felt that Trottle was right, and sat down
as patiently as I could in a chair he had
thoughtfully placed ready for me. I was
so horrified at the discovery of my own
relation's wickedness that when Trottle
proposed to make me acquainted with the
confession wrung from Barsham and his mother,
I begged him to spare me all details, and
only to tell me what was necessary about
George Forley.

"All that can be said for Mr. Forley, ma'am,
is, that he was just scrupulous enough to hide
the child's existence and blot out its parentage
here, instead of consenting, at the first, to
its death, or afterwards, when the boy grew
up, to turning him adrift, absolutely helpless
in the world. The fraud has been managed,
ma'am, with the cunning of Satan himself.
Mr. Forley had the hold over the Barshams,
that they had helped him in his villany, and
that they were dependent on him for the
bread they eat. He brought them up to
London to keep them securely under his
own eye. He put them into this empty
house (taking it out of the agent's hands
previously, on pretence that he meant to manage
the letting of it himself); and by keeping the
house empty, made it the surest of all hiding
places for the child. Here, Mr. Forley could
come, whenever he pleased, to see that the
poor lonely child was not absolutely starved;
sure that his visits would only appear like
looking after his own property. Here the
child was to have been trained to believe
himself Barsham's child, till he should be
old enough to be provided for in some
situation, as low and as poor as Mr. Forley's
uneasy conscience would let him pick out.
He may have thought of atonement on his
death-bed; but not before—I am only too
certain of it—not before!"

A low, double knock startled us.

"The messenger!" said Trottle, under his