“No professing Christian, as she is reported to be, dare go before the Divine Judge with malice in her heart,” added Parson Shaw. “Have you these documents, my dear?” inquired the lawyer. “Certainly; very carefully put away,” replied Roma. “And, of course, you have written to the Scotch lady?” added Dr. Shaw. “Yes, of course. Immediately after the death of that poor young creature I wrote to Mrs. Arbuthnot, giving her full particulars of her granddaughter and the condition in which her infant great-grandchild was left. I said nothing of William Hanson. There has not yet been time to receive an answer to my letter,” concluded Roma. “Do you think, my dear, that Hanson knows the child he has carried off to be his own daughter?” inquired Dr. Shaw. “I have not a doubt of it. Else he would not have dared to take her. I suppose he has had me under espionage for a long time, and even during his long disappearance. I think, of course, that he knows the parentage of my adopted pet as well as he knows my affection for her.” “Now, my dear Roma, are you quite sure that you have not been deceived in this matter? Even that your poor protégée was not herself deceived?” inquired Lawyer Merritt. “Quite sure. I can show you documents and correspondence that will place the matter beyond question, even of a Washington lawyer. But here we are at home.” The carriage drew up before the entrance. Puck got down from his box and opened the door. The two gentlemen alighted. Poor Ducky Darling had cried herself to sleep, sitting on the floor of the carriage, with her head on Roma’s lap. She lifted her very tenderly, and said: “Here, Puck, take little Dorcas very carefully, so as not to wake her, and carry her to her mother. Never mind the horses for the present. You know they will stand until you return.” The man obeyed under protest. “’Deed, young mist’ess, yo’ sp’ils dis young ’un! ’Deed yo’ does. ’Taine no good treatin’ ob her jus’ like she was a w’ite chile! ’Deed it ain’t! ’Ca’se yo’ see yo’ can’t keep it up, yo’ know, w’en she gets ol’er,” he said, as he carried off his little burden. “The man is in the right, my dear,” said Dr. Shaw as he gave his hand to Roma to help her from the carriage. Miss Fronde threw off her bonnet, mantle and gloves in the hall, where the gentlemen also left their hats, for they were to stay and dine. The three entered the sitting-room and found seats. “Well, we have returned from a fruitless errand,” said Mr. Merritt, with a sigh. “Not quite, since we know for a certainty that it was the father who carried off the child; and surely no father, not even Hanson, could fail to be kind to his own and only child—the child of his youth and love, the motherless child of his young, deserted, dead wife,” said Miss Fronde, trying to console herself for the loss of her protégée, “and at least we have got rid of Hanson,” she added. “Only for the present, I fear. He is a very persistent wretch,” said Merritt.