“Who can she be?  Where did she come from?  I feel toward her as if she were my own child.”

“But she is only a nurse,” said her friend.  “Do not forget that, nor your station in society.”

Mrs. Linden shook her head and murmured—­“I have never found one like her in the highest places; no, not even in my own children.  Station in society!  Ah! my friend, that delusion has passed.”

As Mrs. Linden recovered more and more, Ellen remained with her, waiting only for a good opportunity to make herself known.  She did not wish to do this until she was sure that she had awakened a feeling of affection in her mother’s bosom.

Mrs. Linden had been sitting up for two or three days, so far had she recovered, and yet Ellen did not feel that it was safe to venture a full declaration of the truth.

Up to this time, neither William nor his wife had visited her, nor sent to inquire about her.  This fact Mrs. Linden knew, for she had asked about it particularly.  The name of Charles was never mentioned.

In order to try its effect, Ellen said to her—­“You are better now, Mrs. Linden, and will be well in a little while.  You do not need me any longer.  I will leave you to-morrow.”

“Leave me!” ejaculated Mrs. Linden.  “Oh, no, Ellen, you must not leave me; I cannot do without you.  You must stay with me always.”

“You would soon tire of such a one as I am.”

“Never, my good girl, never!  You shall always remain with me.  You shall be—­not my nurse, but my child.”

Mrs. Linden’s voice trembled.

Ellen could hardly help throwing herself at her feet, and declaring that she was really her child; but she controlled herself, and replied—­“That cannot be, madam; I have other duties to perform.”

“You have?  What?  To whom?”

“To my husband and children.”

“Gracious heaven! what do you mean?  Who are you?”

“One who loved you before she ever saw you.  One who loves you now.”

“Speak, child! oh, speak!” exclaimed Mrs. Linden, turning suddenly pale, and grasping hold of Ellen with both her hands.  “Who are you?  What interest have you in me?  Speak!”

“Do you love me?” asked Ellen, in a husky whisper.

“Love you!  You have forced me to love you; but speak out.  Who are you?”

“Your daughter,” was faintly replied.

“Who?”

“The wife of one who has never ceased to love you; the wife of Charles Linden.”

Mrs. Linden seemed paralyzed for some moments at this declaration.  Her face became pale—­her eye fell to the floor—­she sat like one in a dream.

“Dear mother!” plead the anxious wife, sinking on her knees, “will you not forgive your son?  Will you not forgive me that I loved him so well?  If you knew how much we love you—­how anxious we are to make you happy, you would instantly relent.”

“My child!  Oh, can it be true?” This was said in a choking voice by Mrs. Linden, as she threw her arms around Ellen and held her to her bosom.  In a few moments she withdrew herself, and fixed her eyes long and earnestly upon Ellen’s face.