“No, but I am quite as fond of her as if she were my own child, but she is not, and I think it but right and proper that you should be put in possession of all the facts. She is not my daughter.” “Whose daughter is she then?” “That I cannot tell you. I have adopted her, and brought her up from infancy.” “I am indeed surprised.” “That is no more than I expected. Listen! You are perhaps not aware that I was at one time matron to the Derby Infirmary. It was while acting in this capacity that I first met with Aveline, who was then between two and three years old. “There had been a collision on the line. Many persons were seriously injured, while some were picked out of the carriages dead. “One poor lady was brought into the infirmary in a dying condition. When discovered, strange to say, a little girl, supposed to be her daughter, whom she clasped in her arms, was found to be uninjured; they were both conveyed to the infirmary. “The mother was in a state of insensibility. After she had been attended to by the surgeon she rallied a little, and murmured once or twice, in a half dreamy state, the word ‘Aveline.’ The child answered to the name, and went to the bedside of the sufferer. “We endeavoured to get the poor lady to tell us who she was, but she was too ill to speak, and the doctor forbade us making any more inquiries for the present. “It was a pitiful sight, for you must understand that there were many other poor creatures besides her who required immediate attention, and of course it was the duty of myself and the nurses under my direction to see to them without a moment’s delay. While thus engaged one of the nurses came to me, and whispered in my ear that the lady in bed No. 14 had breathed her last. “I hastened to the spot, and found that her words were but too true. The child was crying, and I directed one of the women to take it into the house I occupied, and tell Rebecca, my servant, to take charge of it till I came.” “And its mother?” “Had passed away, as I have told you. Many others succumbed to the injuries they had received. Most――nay, indeed, I believe all――were identified by their relatives――all, save the lady and her child. “For these no claimant could be found. Not the faintest scrap of intelligence reached us from any quarter to give a clue to their identification. “The lady to all appearance belonged to the upper class. She had a sweet face and features of delicate mould; but who she was it is not possible to say. Neither do I think it likely now that we shall ever ascertain.” “Goodness me――how singular! And had she nothing about her to denote who and what she was?”