“That young woman did. Miss Fronde meant to have gone to the country in December, but the poor, sick creature was not able to travel, so the young lady stayed here with her. The woman got so much better in her new, luxurious quarters, with the skillful medical treatment and the tender nursing and cheerful companionship, that Miss Fronde began to talk about taking her to the country as soon as the spring should open, if she should then be able to travel. And I know that the poor widow looked forward to going there as to going to Paradise. I don’t think, however, that there are many young beauties and heiresses spending a winter in Washington who would have given up all society for the sake of nursing a poor, consumptive fellow creature.” “It was very extravagant benevolence,” said Hanson. “So I told her. ‘Miss Fronde,’ I said, ‘if you mean to do for every forlorn human being all that you are doing for this mother and child, you will have your hands full, and need the fortune of Vanderbilt ten times told.’” “What did she say to that?” inquired Hanson. “Oh, sir, she looked at me with such a grave, sweet smile, and said: “‘But I am not required to “do” for all the “forlorn.” The poor are freely distributed around and about the rich throughout the world. Every one who has the power to relieve is responsible for the suffering that comes under his notice. Just at present I am only required to take care of these two poor, helpless creatures. I do not find them a grievous burden, I assure you. The Lord has not demanded of me more than I can well perform.’” “How long did this state of things continue?” “I told you, sir, that the young woman died about two weeks ago. She was buried at Oak Hill Cemetery. Miss Fronde paid all the funeral expenses and adopted the orphan. I have often heard that childless people often love their adopted children as well or better than if they had been born their own. I do think this was the case with Miss Fronde. Young as she was, she took to this little five-year-old orphan as if she had been the widow, and it was her own and only child. Yes, sir, it is wonderful to see. Her heart is just wrapped up in that mite. I really do think it would grieve her to death if she were to lose it. I did wonder at it; but I said to myself it is because she is alone in the world—not knowing anything about her engagement to you, sir, you must recollect.” “When did Miss Fronde leave here for Goblin Hall?” “Nearly two weeks ago, sir; a few days after the funeral.” “Taking the child with her?” “Yes, sir. I told you so.” “And no one else?” “No, sir. I told you that also.” “Had Miss Fronde any visitors while here?” “No, sir.” “No gentlemen visitors?” “Now, there you are again! You men are so awfully jealous! No, sir, she had no gentlemen visitors, unless you call her old guardian, who came on business, and the old doctor who attended the sick woman, visitors, and both of them were over sixty years old.”