Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance. I doubt if you will receive anything for your trouble. "You are alone?" said one of the spinsters—Prudence Jedson. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. " "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. CHAPTER XXIX.
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