sorrows? What had happened to her — she whose wound still bled — that she should welcome this little one into their home?
The mother came back after two hours and went off with the little one, giving thanks... But Susie remembered the hot food made ready for lunch... and wished the little one had eaten some of it... And when the mother brought her son on the third day, Susie told her to leave the child with her until after noon.
The child was playing in the garden and she was reading a book when her husband came in and saw him for the first time... And he stood struck dumb... Truly, he was the very image of her son, as his wife had told him before... In a few minutes the child was hovering around Eddie, chattering away...
The little one's visit to the house became a daily one, and he came to spend most of the daylight hours in their home — except the two days of the weekend, which he spent with his mother.
It was a Friday when the mother seemed sadder and more careworn than usual... She said she had a great deal of work tomorrow at the hotel — one of the great men of the town was giving a grand party... and the guests were many... only... and she drew the child along by his hand... And Susie said without a moment's pause: Bring him tomorrow... But wait... if you bring him, you shall not take him back before Sunday evening, for we are leaving the house for the country to spend the weekend there... Eagerly, and with perfect politeness, the mother agreed, giving her thanks.
Then Susie remembered that she had not consulted her husband in the matter... and that she must contrive a bed for the little one
to sleep in... and then there was taking him along, and all the many problems of children? But the mother had gone, and there was no way back.
It was a restless night... He would sleep in her child's room... in his little bed... But how strange... her heart could bear it... and her husband seemed happy with this child... Yesterday he had carried him on his shoulders and kissed him with passion, exactly as he used to do with her beloved child.
The next day the little one sat in the car between them, in his lap one of her child's toys, and in the back her child's bicycle, for him to ride in the country.
Six months went by... The little one no longer left the couple's side... Smiles took the place of tears in the house, and the sweet laughter of childhood rang through it... It seemed as if the little one had become something the couple could not do without... Indeed, each of them began to wonder in secret... What would happen if the mother took her child away... What desolate silence would come back to reign over the house...
But the matter seemed to be quite the other way: it was as though the mother meant to be rid of the little one... She might come to take him in the evening, or she might not come for two or three days, and then hurry in to apologize; and if Susie laughed and said, Never mind — we are happy with him, she would seize on those words and hurry out again... How hard-hearted this mother was... How could she sleep without him most days of the week... That was what would pass through Susie's mind.
Then came a day when someone knocked at the door bearing a
letter... Ten whole days had passed in which the mother had not asked after the little one, until the couple had almost forgotten that the little one had a mother other than Susie, and a home other than theirs... Susie opened the letter quickly and read:
Madam: Please come with the bearer of my letter, bringing my darling little one... I have something to say to you.
Marguerite
Her darling little one... Did she mean to take him from her? Did she mean to go away to some distant place — or had a fortune dropped on her from heaven, so that she would not condescend to come and take him and give thanks as she used to, but sent a servant in her place?
These thoughts tormented her on her way to the mother... But where was this servant leading her...? Had not the little one's mother said she worked in a hotel and lived in it — then what were these narrow, winding, dark stairs...? At last she entered the room and saw her... She was lying on her bed with her eyes closed; then she opened them and began to whisper:
Madam, forgive me, for I deceived you... I knew you when I met you the first time... and I knew that you had lost your child... and that he was my child's age, and that his name was my child's name... And so I tried to draw your eyes to him — and I succeeded...
I was not a servant in a hotel; I am a poor woman whom the doctors had condemned to die within the year, for her disease is mortal and past all cure...
I did not mind death, and I did not think of the pains awaiting me; it was my darling little one who was my tragedy...