Chapter 15 - Page 2

carriage-door ready open in his hand, the old man bent down and
kissed the child's red lips. "God bless you, my dear!" he
murmured, with unwonted tenderness to his son's daughter. Then he
took out his purse, and drew from it a whole gold sovereign.
"That's for you, my child," he said, fondling the pretty golden
curls. "Take it home, and tell your mammy an old man in the street
gave it to you."

But the coachman observed to the footman, as they drove on together
to the next noble patient's, "You may take your oath on it, Mr.
Wells, that little 'un there was Mr. Alan's love-child!"

Dolly had never held so much money in her hand before; she ran
home, clutching it tight, and burst in upon Herminia with the
startling news that Sir Anthony Merrick, a very grand gentleman in
a very fine carriage, had given a gold piece to her.

Gold pieces were rare in the calm little attic, but Herminia caught
her child up with a cry of terror; and that very same evening, she
changed the tainted sovereign with Dolly for another one, and sent
Sir Anthony's back in an envelope without a word to Harley Street.
The child who was born to free half the human race from aeons of
slavery must be kept from all contagion of man's gold and man's
bribery. Yet Dolly never forgot the grand gentleman's name, though
she hadn't the least idea why he gave that yellow coin to her.

Out of this small episode, however, grew Herminia's great temptation.

For Sir Anthony, being a man tenacious of his purpose, went home
that day full of relenting thoughts about that girl Dolores. Her
golden hair had sunk deep into his heart. She was Alan's own
child, after all; she had Alan's blue eyes; and in a world where
your daughters go off and marry men you don't like, while your sons
turn out badly, and don't marry at all to vex you, it's something
to have some fresh young life of your blood to break in upon your
chilly old age and cheer you. So the great doctor called a few
days later at Herminia's lodgings, and having first ascertained
that Herminia herself was out, had five minutes' conversation alone
with her landlady.

There were times, no doubt, when Mrs. Barton was ill? The landlady
with the caution of her class, admitted that might be so. And
times no doubt when Mrs. Barton was for the moment in arrears with
her rent? The landlady, good loyal soul, demurred to that
suggestion; she knit her brows and hesitated. Sir Anthony hastened
to set her mind at rest. His intentions were most friendly. He
wished to keep a watch,--a quiet, well-meaning, unsuspected watch,--
over Mrs. Barton's necessities. He desired, in point of fact, if
need were, to relieve them. Mrs. Barton was distantly connected