“Not at all, I knew her only slightly at the hospital, as she was seldom in my room.”

“But long enough to transact a very important business matter, eh?”

“Yes, yes, too long!  May God have mercy upon me for my sin!  It is almost more than I can stand.”

“But you have stood it well all these years, madame.”

“You think so, do you?  But you little know what agony of soul I have endured.  Oh, it has been terrible!”

“H’m,” Grimsby grunted, “it seems to me you have had many compensations, such as the money you received, a fine place like this, a good son, you call your own, and the prospect of making considerable out of your coal mine.  Surely they have been a balm to your heart and mind.  They would be to mine, anyway.”

“No, no, no!” the woman declared.  “Nothing can ever take the place of my own sweet baby I so rashly bartered away.  I thought so once, fool that I was, but I know better now.  No matter how dear another child may become, and John means much to me, it is not one’s own flesh and blood.  No one but a mother who has suffered can fully understand this.  During the twenty years that have passed since my fatal mistake, my baby girl has been ever with me.  If alive, she is a young woman now.  She goes by some other name, and calls another woman ‘mother.’  She does not know of my existence, and even if she heard my name or met me face to face, I would mean nothing to her.”

Mrs. Hampton ceased, and looked out over the rippling surface of the noble St. John.  Far down the river her eyes caught the gleam of a white sail, bending to the gentle breeze.  She knew that the boat must be the “Eb and Flo,” for Mrs. Tobin had called that morning and told her that she was expecting her son and husband home.  But it meant nothing to her, neither was she aware of a slight graceful girl standing by the captain’s side, asking questions about the various places along the river.  Had she but known, how soon her look of indifference would have vanished.

“So you have no knowledge, then, as to your—­your daughter’s whereabouts?” It was Grimsby speaking, and it aroused her from her reverie.

“None at all.  I do not even know the name of the woman who got my baby.”

“She was very wealthy, I suppose?”

“I believe so, but——­” She suddenly stopped, and an expression of hope leaped into her eyes.  “Tell me, do you know where she is?  Your wife must know, anyway.”

She waited almost breathlessly for a reply, but when Grimsby smiled and shook his head, the light of hope faded from her eyes.

“You don’t know?” she asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

“I didn’t say that, madame.  Maybe I know and maybe I don’t.  But what good would it do if I should tell where she is?  You could not get her back again, no matter how hard you might try.  And, besides, she wouldn’t want to come.  She has been brought up to a life of luxury of which you know nothing.  She moves in high social circles, and would be ashamed of you.  Suppose she should find out that you are her mother, what would she think if she learned how you sold her for money when she was a helpless baby?  Have you thought of that?”