It
would be Alan's baby, and might grow in time to be the world's true
savior. For, now that Alan was dead, no hope on earth seemed too
great to cherish for Alan's child within her.
And oh, that it might be a girl, to take up the task she herself
had failed in!
The day after the funeral, Dr. Merrick called in for the last time
at her lodgings. He brought in his hand a legal-looking paper,
which he had found in searching among Alan's effects, for he had
carried them off to his hotel, leaving not even a memento of her
ill-starred love to Herminia. "This may interest you," he said
dryly. "You will see at once it is in my son's handwriting."
Herminia glanced over it with a burning face. It was a will in her
favor, leaving absolutely everything of which he died possessed "to
my beloved friend, Herminia Barton."
Herminia had hardly the means to keep herself alive till her baby
was born; but in those first fierce hours of ineffable bereavement
what question of money could interest her in any way? She stared
at it, stupefied. It only pleased her to think Alan had not
forgotten her.
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