"Has Lord
Arleigh sent you to me?" she asked.
"Lord Arleigh!" he repeated, in wonder. "No, he has nothing to do with
what I have to say. Sit down--you do not look strong--and I will tell
you why I am here."
It never occurred to him to ask why she had named Lord Arleigh. He saw
her sink, half exhausted, half frightened, upon the couch, and he sat
down by her side.
"Madaline," he began, "will you look at me, and see if my face brings
back no dream, no memory to you? Yet how foolish I am to think of such a
thing! How can you remember me when your baby-eyes rested on me for only
a few minutes?"
"I do not remember you," she said, gently--"I have never seen you
before."
"My poor child," he returned, in a tone so full of tenderness and pain
that she was startled by it, "this is hard!"
"You cannot be the gentleman I used to see sometimes in the early home
that I only just remember, who used to amuse me by showing me his watch
and take me out for drives?"
"No. I never saw you. Madeline as a child--I left you when you were
three or four days old. I have never seen you since, although I have
spent a fortune almost in searching for you.
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