"At this juncture my brother-in-law, David Clarke, returned to England, bringing his motherless baby in charge of an ayah. He did not intend to stay, only to settle a few necessary business matters and to make some arrangement for his little girl, who was delicate, and could not be reared in India. He had no near relations of his own who were willing to be troubled with the child, so he asked me if I would undertake to bring her up with mine, and I accepted the charge. I was drawn to little Rosamond for her mother's sake, though I could never forgive her for being a fortnight older than her cousin. So everything was settled. I took a house in Scotland for the summer, which I thought would be healthy for the children, and I sent Alison on there in advance with her own nurse. The ayah who had brought Rosamond from India was to return in the same ship as my brother-in-law, who was starting immediately for Madras. He wanted to see his baby till the very last, so I accompanied him to London, taking with me Mrs. Burke, a respectable woman who had once been a maid at my father's house, and was now married, to act as temporary nurse after the ayah's departure. "When the last good-byes were said, and my brother-in-law and the ayah had started, I found I wished to do some shopping in London before I went north. It is awkward and inconvenient to keep a baby at a hotel, so I determined to send Mrs. Burke with my little niece to Scotland, where my own responsible nurse was already settled in charge of Alison. I took them to the station and saw them safely off in the express. In a few days I intended to follow them. That very night, as I sat at dinner in the hotel, I heard the newsboys shouting 'Special edition', and learnt of a terrible northern railway smash. I set off by the first available train for the scene of the disaster. It was impossible to get beyond Burkden, for the line was disorganized, but I hired a carriage and went on to Greenfield. The first point to be ascertained was whether my niece was among the victims. I wasted some time enquiring at the railway offices, and it was not till late in the afternoon that I saw a newspaper poster with the heading: 'Baby's Wonderful Escape from the Accident'. It was only after further investigations and delays that I learnt the child was being taken care of by its rescuer at the Red Lion Hotel. Do you remember how I came into the inn parlour that evening? The scene is stamped vividly upon my memory. You sat by the fireside with the baby on your knee; the light falling from the hanging lamp above made a picture of you both. It had taken a fancy to you, though it was always shy with me, and its soft little cheek was pressed against your face. I looked at it, and I think if it had given one sign of recognition, or held out its arms to me, I should have claimed it. But it took no notice at all, and my heart hardened against it. A terrible temptation assailed me. If I disowned the baby, nobody would ever know