XV

Jasper Penny supplemented Jannan’s letter to Essie Scofield, asking for an appointment with his client at the law office, with a short communication laying before her the condition in which he had found Eunice, his knowledge of her neglect to provide their daughter with the funds he had sent for that purpose, and definite plans for his complete control of the child.  At the despatch of this he felt that his duty, where Essie as a formal parent resided, was ended.  It was now only a question of an agreement on terms.  He got no reply, other than a notification from Stephen Jannan that a meeting had been arranged for the following week.  And, at eleven o’clock, on a clear, thin blue winter morning, he mounted, with Eunice, to the entrance of Jannan’s offices on Fourth Street.

Essie Scofield, in widespread mulberry silk with tight sleeves and broad steel buttons, a close brimmed blue bonnet filled with lilacs and tied with an old rose ribbon, was more compelling than Jasper Penny had remembered her for, actually, years.  A coffee-coloured India shawl, with a deep fringe and trace of a lining checkered in cherry and black slipping from her shoulders, toned her appearance to a potential dignity.

“Eunice,” she exclaimed, as the child entered, “do come here at my side!” A small, cold mouth was silently raised for a straining embrace.  Stephen Jannan proceeded at once, addressing Essie Scofield.  “Mr. Penny informs me that he has written you explaining our purpose.  I have already instructed you of the law in such a connexion, and there remains only your signatures to these papers.  I begged you, if you will remember, to come with counsel, but since you have not done that it will be best for you to read this deed, which is quite clear in its intent.”

Essie gazed dramatically at the paper the lawyer tended her.  “It means,” she said, “that I am to lose Eunice, and because I cannot offer her any advantages beyond those of a slim purse.  I am a most unfortunate creature.”  Jasper Penny scraped his chair back impatiently, but Stephen enforced his silence with a gesture.  “While my client understands that no monetary consideration can compensate for the breaking of ties of affection,” Stephen Jannan went on smoothly, “and while he offers none in payment to that end, still we feel that some material recognition should be due you.  Have you anything to say, suggest, at this point?”

Essie Scofield’s arm was about Eunice’s waist.  “I am to be parted from my little daughter,” she exclaimed; “and my tears are to be stopped with gold—­an affectionate breast, a heart-wrung appeal, stilled by a bribe.  That is the price paid by a trusting, an unsuspicious, female.  Long ago, when a mere girl, dazzled by—­”

“We won’t go into that,” Jannan interrupted, “but confine ourselves to the immediate development.  By signing the paper in question, and accepting a sum of money, you surrender all claim to this child, known as Eunice Scofield.”