CHAPTER XXX.

WRAPPED IN A CLOAK.

THE first time Rose appeared conscious of the presence of any one else in the room, was after what seemed to the woman and Gertrude a very long time.

She had been bending over her child examining his thin little limbs, seemingly trying to reconcile facts which were so contrary to her remembrance; apparently the joy of having him in her arms again had swept away all else.

At last she raised her eyes to the woman, and spoke to her for the first time, still with a far-away look that had no realization of what all the present circumstances implied. She had got her child, as yet that was everything.

"How long has he been ill like this?" she asked.

"Nearly two years," the woman replied, in a low tone.

"And I never knew," said Rose dreamily. "Gertrude, he ought to have a doctor."

"Yes," said Gertrude, quickly wiping away her tears, and coming nearer.

"Let us send for one," said Rose.

But then her eyes caught the woman's shrinking look, and for a moment there was a breathless pause.

"I see," said Rose slowly, rising with a dignified gesture. "My sister said I should have much to forgive. I did not understand her; I do not think I do now. But all I know is that I have my child again. I will take him away now. You have restored me my child, for that I thank you with all my heart. For whatever else, I pray God that I may forgive you when I understand it. To-night I can understand nothing."

She moved from her chair, holding little Lester easily in her arms, then looking round for some covering, she took from her sister's hand the cloak she had thrown off on her entrance into the room, and wrapped it tenderly round her child.

"But, dear Rose—" began Gertrude.

"Do not hinder me," she said pathetically. "I have got Lester, nothing else matters!"

She went swiftly to the door and began descending the stairs, the woman hastening to the landing to light her steps.

"Good-bye!" said Gertrude, pressing the woman's hand, as she quickly prepared to follow her sister. "I will come to see you to-morrow. Oh, thank you, thank you for letting me bring her! If you could only guess what we feel!"

"I'll love you for ever!" said the woman, weeping. "If I could do anything for you!"

"Would you do it if I asked you?" said Gertrude eagerly.

"Indeed, indeed I would!"

"Then let me tell just my nearest friends about this. If you would do that, it would be the kindest thing you could do now."

"To let it be in the papers to-morrow morning," said the woman. "I can't do that."

"No—no, indeed; only ourselves. Oh, do let me!"

For a moment there was a pause, then the woman let go her hand suddenly, and set the candle down on a box.

They could hear Rose's steps had reached the hall, and Gertrude must go.

"I owe you everything—everything; you may do what you like! I know you will do nothing but what is right."

She turned into the desolate room, and Gertrude sped down-stairs.

There stood Rose, leaning against the banisters for support.

"How can we get out?" she asked hurriedly. "She will not stop us, will she?"

"I do not think so—oh no. But see, I believe we can open this from the inside."

While she fumbled at the lock with trembling fingers, they heard steps coming down the stairs, and saw the flickering light of a candle drawing nearer and nearer.

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Gertrude, when the woman turned the last corner. "We do not know how to open this."

The woman undid the fastenings in silence, but ere she opened the door, she turned to Rose with an appealing glance.

"It's too soon to ask you, even if you ever can. But, ma'am, if ever you are able to say the word 'forgive,' it would be the most blessed word that my sad heart could hear. I don't ask you for it to-day, but if ever you can—"

Rose looked up in the woman's eyes, then she looked on the little form in her arms which she was clasping to her bosom so tenderly.

"I did love him and do all I could for him," whispered the woman; "all but giving him back to you,—and now you've got him."

"Yes, I have got him," said Rose, still looking into those sorrowful eyes; "and I—" She waited as if thinking how far her words might be true, then added impulsively, "If it will comfort you, if it will show my thankfulness to my Lord who has heard my prayer, I will say it now—I do, yes, I do forgive you!"

Then she turned and went through the hall door and stood out under the starlight with her burden in her arms. The door closed behind them, shutting in a sound of weeping, and then the sisters paused, looking at each other.

"Hasten to Mrs. Shaddock's," exclaimed Rose, as if waking up to her natural self. "Ask her if I may bring Lester in, but I know I may. I must, till we can decide. I am sure they will not refuse."

They hurried on, and in another minute were standing once more in the lighted hall, with that muffled bundle in the agitated mother's aching arms.

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