“You will understand it as I go on,” madam returned, wiping her tears. “Of course, after that discovery, I was nearly wild to claim my child, and Mr. Tressalia went at once to arouse Mr. Dalton and demand a full explanation of all the past in my behalf. You can imagine something of our consternation when he discovered that he had departed on an early train, taking Editha with him, and no one could tell us whither they had gone. We returned to Newport, thinking they might have gone back there, but they were not there. Mr. Tressalia said that Mr. Dalton had visited Long Branch the previous summer, and possibly we might find them there; so to Long Branch we repaired, but with the same success. We visited one or two other watering-places with a like result, and then returned to New York, thinking we might find them at home; but their house was closed, and we knew not which way to turn then. But I was desperate. The fact of Sumner Dalton’s flying from me would have alone convinced me that Editha was my child if nothing else had, and I was determined I would never give up the chase until I found her. “At last we discovered that they were boarding quietly at a hotel, and one morning while seated in their private parlor, Mr. Dalton reading, Editha sewing, we walked in upon them unannounced, beyond a light knock upon their door. “The look upon Mr. Dalton’s face upon beholding us was a strange one—it was amazement, rage, and despair combined, while Editha immediately sprang forward with a cry of joy to welcome us. “‘I am unable to account for this intrusion,’ Mr. Dalton said, loftily, and instantly recovering his self-possession. “‘I can explain it in a very few words,’ I returned, calmly. ‘I have come to claim my child!’ “‘I do not understand you,’ he answered, with well-feigned surprise, but growing white as a piece of chalk at my words. “‘You do understand me, Mr. Dalton,’ I said, sternly, ‘and you know that I speak the truth when I claim this dear girl as my child and Richard Forrester’s.’ “I turned to clasp her in my arms, but she had sunk, white and trembling, into a chair. “‘I should like to see your proofs of that statement,’ Mr. Dalton sneered. “I did not reply, but bending down, I took both of Editha’s hands in mine, and said: “‘My dear child, tell me the date of your birth.’ “‘Editha, I command you to hold no communication with that woman,’ Mr. Dalton cried, shaking from head to foot with passion. “Editha looked from one to the other in helpless amazement for a moment; then she said: “‘Surely, papa, it can do no harm for me to give the date of my birth,’ then fixing her eyes wistfully on my face, and with lips that quivered painfully, she added, ‘I was born October 24th, 1843.’ “My child and Richard Forrester’s—my little blue-eyed, fair-haired girl, that her father named Editha for the happiness she brought him—was born October 24th, 1843.