Love stories; Poor -- Fiction; Violinists -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"Yes, asking me to help you, if you want to be blunt. Molly, it won't
make you any happier to hatch up old scores. I tell you I've come to
make amends--to take you--if you will----"
"And I repeat, I can't go with you!"
"We'll leave that discussion until later. Begin back where I told you
to."
Molly's face was very white, and her lids drooped wearily. Virginia
wanted so much to help her! She made a little uneasy movement under
the table, but Molly's tragic voice was speaking again.
"My father'd kill me if he knew about it, so I never told him or any
one."
"Including me," cut in the man sarcastically.
"You didn't care," said Molly with asperity.
"How do you know I didn't care? Did you tell me? Did you? Did I
know?"
Molly shook her head.
"Then I insist upon knowing now, this moment!"
"My father would have killed me----"
"Well!" His voice rushed in upon her hesitancy.
"When I couldn't stay home any longer, I went away to visit a cousin
of my mother's. At least, my father thought I'd gone there. I only
stayed with Bertha a little while and father never knew the truth of
it."
"And then after that?"
"I didn't know what to do with my baby. I was afraid people'd say I
wasn't married, and then father----"
"Go on from the time you left your cousin's."
Molly thought a minute and proceeded.
"I looked in all the papers to find some one who wanted a baby----"
"So you gave him away? Well, that's easy to overcome. You couldn't
give my baby away, you know."
"No, no, indeed! I didn't give him away.... I boarded him out and
saved money to pay for him. I even took summer boarders. The woman who
had him----"
Molly's long wait prompted the man once more.
"Well?" he said again. "The woman what?"
"The woman began to love the baby very much, and she wasn't very poor,
and didn't need the money. Lots of times I went with it to her, and
she wouldn't take it."
A thought connected with her story made Molly bury her face in her
hands. The man touched her.
"Go on," he said slowly. "Go on. And then?"
"Then once when I went to her she said she was going to take the baby
on a little visit to some relatives and would write me as soon as she
got back."
"Yes," encouraged the low voice.
"She never wrote or came back. I couldn't find where she'd gone, and
father was terribly ill, and I've hoped and hoped----"
"How long since you last saw him?"
Molly considered a moment.
"A long time," she sighed.
"How many years?"
"One!"
"Then he was almost seven years with the woman?"
"Yes," breathed Molly, and they lapsed into silence.
The man meditated a space and Jinnie heard a low, nervous cough come
from his lips.
"Molly," he said presently, "I'm going to have a lot of money soon. It
won't be long, and then we'll find him and begin life all over."
"Oh, I'd love to find him," moaned Molly, "but I couldn't begin over
with you. It's all hateful and horrible now."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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