“Then came the crash.  Dicky came in one Sunday afternoon and I saw at once that he was really ill.  You know his carelessness.  He had let a cold go until he was as near pneumonia as he could well be.  A sleet storm was raging outside, and when Dicky, after shivering before the fire, started to go back to his studio, Will’s mother, who liked Dicky immensely, joined with me in insisting that he must not go out at all, but to bed.  Dicky was really too ill to care what we did with him, so we got him into bed, and I took care of him for two or three days until he was well enough to leave.

“Of course, the greater part of his care fell on me, for Will’s mother was old and not strong.  I am not going to tell you the accusations which my unspeakable husband made against me, or the affidavits which the maid was bribed to sign about Dicky and me.  You can guess.  Worst of all, Will’s mother turned against me, not because of anything she had observed, but simply because her son told her I was guilty.

“‘I never would have thought it of you, Lillian,’ she said to me with the tears streaming down her wrinkled, old face.  ’I never saw anything out of the way, but of course Will wouldn’t lie.  And I loved you so.’

“Poor old woman.  Those last few words of affection made it easier for me to give the baby up to her when the time came.  She idolizes Marion.  She gives her the best of care, and I do not think she will teach her to hate me as Will would.

“But there has never been a moment since I kissed Marion and gave her into the arms of her grandmother that I have not known exactly how she was treated,” she said.  “I have made it my business to know, and I have paid liberally for the knowledge.  You see, about the time of the divorce Mr. Morten had a legacy left him, so that life has been easy for him financially.  His mother had always kept a maid.  Every servant she has had has been in my employ.  There has scarcely been a day since I lost my baby that from some unobserved place I have not seen her in her walks.  I know every line of her face, every curve of her body, every trick of movement and expression.  I shall know how to win her love when the time comes, never fear.”

Her voice was dauntless, but her face mirrored the anguish that must be her daily companion.

One thing about her recital jarred upon me.  This paying of servants, this furtive espionage was not in keeping with the high resolve that had led the mother to “keep her word” to the man who had ruined her life.  And yet—­and yet—­I dared not judge her.  In her place I could not imagine what I would have done.

One thing I knew.  Never again would I doubt Lillian Underwood.  The ghost of the past romance between my husband and the woman before me was laid for all time, never to trouble me again.  Remembering the sacrifice she had made for Dicky, considering the gallant fight against circumstances she had waged since her girlhood, I felt suddenly unworthy of the friendship she had so warmly offered me.