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Ocumpaugh's most trusted friend was responsible for the disappearance of her child, and I was not quite sure that the child was not now under her very roof. It was very late by this time, but I meant, if possible, to settle some of these doubts before I left the neighborhood of the cottage. How? By getting a glimpse of Mrs.
Ocumpaugh's whole form collapsed; the dangerous apathy was creeping over her again. "You are deciding for me," she spoke very faintly "you and Doctor Pool." Should I tell her that Doctor Pool was dead? No, not yet. I wanted her to choose the noble course for Mr. Ocumpaugh's sake yes, and for her own. "No," I ventured to rejoin. "You are the only one who can settle your own fate.
I have experienced for days now what motherhood might be, and nothing on earth shall rob me of my present rights in this child." Then as she met my unmoved countenance: "If you know Mrs. Ocumpaugh's whole history, you know that neither she nor her husband has any real claim on the child." "In that you are mistaken," I quickly protested.
Ocumpaugh's eyes opened wide in horror. "Blood!" she repeated. "A ceiling oozing blood!" "An old superstition, Mrs. Ocumpaugh, quite unworthy your attention at this moment. Do not let your mind dwell upon that portion of what I have read, but on the word 'room'. 'Perish with the room! We know what room was meant; there can be but one.
Ocumpaugh's wish, who declared that the news of the child's death would affect her father far less than the dreadful possibilities of an abduction, the exact facts of the case had been cabled to Mr. Ocumpaugh. The night and another day passed, bringing but little relief to the situation. Not an eye had as yet been closed in Homewood, nor had the search, ceased for an instant.
"I would not ask for Miss Porter. Ask for Celia; she is Mrs. Ocumpaugh's special maid. Let her carry your message if you feel that it will do any good to disturb her." "Thank you; the recommendation is valuable. Good morning, Mrs. Carew. I may not see you again; may I wish you a safe journey?" "Certainly; are we not almost friends?" Why did I not make my bow and go?
"Six years of care and affection such as they have bestowed on Gwendolen, to say nothing of the substantial form which these have taken from the first, constitute a claim which all the world must recognize, if you do not. Think of Mr. Ocumpaugh's belief in her relation to him! Think of the shock which awaits him, when he learns that she is not of his blood and lineage!" "I know, I know."
Mrs. Ocumpaugh's return was a flight. She had brought one of the little shoes with her, concealed in a pocket she had made especially for it in the trimmings of her elaborate gown.
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