Volume Iii Part 4 (2/2)

'Yes, he is. I stole him.'

'Stole him! Why, how could you do such a thing?' asked the actress excitedly.

'For revenge!' exclaimed the poor woman, with all the energy she could collect, and then fell back exhausted. For a time both were silent, and Rose watched with pity the face, stained by intemperance and sensuality and all evil living, wondering what could be the connection between that poor pauper in the hospital and the proud deceased Baronet.

'Read this paper,' said the poor woman.

'Oct. 187-. Saw my pore boy on a brogham at the theatre. I knowed him at once. His father is Sir Watkin Strahan, and he was on the box of Miss Howard's brogham. I lost him as I was going to speak to him.

The peeler told me to be off.'

'Then, it was you that left him at Sloville, where I took him up?'

'Yes,' said the poor woman feebly, adding: 'Come nearer.'

Rose complied with the request.

'I was an underservant in Sir Watkin's house. He was a wicked man. He took a fancy to me. I war young and good-looking, and a fool.'

The old, old story, thought Rose to herself, for the poor woman gave her plenty of time to think, so slowly and feebly did the words come out of her mouth.

'One day the missus came and caught me in his room. I was turned out into the street, without a character and without a friend. I vowed I'd be even with him, and I run off with his boy.'

'How could you manage that?'

'Oh, that was easy enough. The nursemaid was allus a talking to the sodgers in the park. And an Italian Countess helped me. She had an idea that if she could get rid of the child and the wife she would marry the master.'

'But was no effort made to get the child back?'

'Oh yes! But I managed to get a dead baby, the very moral of his'n. An Italian lady staying in the house helped me. I dressed it in his clothes. The master thought it his own, and had it buried in the family vault.'

'That was very wrong of you.'

'Perhaps it was. But had not the master and missus both wronged me?

Arter that I got married, but me and my husband were always quarrelling about the boy, and that made me take to drink, and then, when I lost my husband, I drank worse and worse.'

'And then you went on the tramp, and left the boy at Sloville, and I took him.'

'Yes.'

'He is a good boy.'

'He allus was.'

'But why did you not see him righted?'

'I did one day. I had a letter sent to Sir Watkin, and he sent me word it was all a lie, that his boy was dead. Then his lady died, and he went abroad, and-'

'And you never saw him again?'

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