human
You are Mrs. Brand?
gpt
Yes, ma'am--your ladyship; Martha Brand.
human
And you inserted that advertisement in the _Times_ regarding a child left in your care ten years ago?
gpt
It was addressed to Mr. Vyking, who left the child in your charge, by which I infer you are not aware that he has left England.
human
Left England, has he? said Mrs. Brand.
gpt
More shame for him, then, never to let me know or leave a farthing to support the boy!
human
I am inclined to believe it was not his fault, said the clear, patrician voice.
gpt
He left England suddenly and against his will, and, I have reason to think, will never return. But there are others interested--more interested than he could possibly be--in the child, who remain, and who are willing to take him off your hands. But first, why is it you are so anxious, after keeping him all these years, to get rid of him?
human
Well, you see, your ladyship, replied Martha Brand,
gpt
And when do you leave for New York?
human
The day after to-morrow, ma'am--and a long journey it is for a poor old body like me.
gpt
Did you live here when Mr. Vyking left the child with you--in this neighborhood?
human
Not in this neighborhood, nor in London at all, your ladyship. It was Lowdean, in Berkshire, and my husband was alive at the time. I had just lost my baby, and the landlady of the hotel recommended me. So he brought it, and paid me thirty sovereigns, and promised me thirty more every twelvemonth, and told me to call it Guy Vyking--and that was the last I ever saw of him.
gpt
And the infant's mother? said the lady, her voice changing perceptibly--
human
But very little, said Martha Brand, shaking her head.
gpt
I never set eyes on her, although she was sick at the inn for upward of three weeks. But Mrs. Vine, the landlady, she saw her twice; and she told me what a pretty young creeter she was--and a lady, if there ever was a lady yet.
human
Then the child was born in Berkshire--how was it?
gpt
Well, your ladyship, it was an accident, seeing as how the carriage broke down with Mr. Vyking and the lady, a-driving furious to catch the last London train. The lady was so hurted that she had to be carried to the inn, and went quite out of her head, raving and dangerous like. Mr. Vyking had the landlady to wait upon her until he could telegraph to London for a nurse, which one came down next day and took charge of her. The baby wasn't two days old when he brought it to me, and the poor young mother was dreadful low and out of her head all the time. Mr. Vyking and the nurse were all that saw her, and the doctor, of course; but she didn't die, as the doctor thought she would, but got well, and before she came right to her senses Mr. Vyking paid the doctor and told him he needn't come back. And then, a little more than a fortnight after, they took her away, all sly and secret-like, and what they told her about her poor baby I don't know. I always thought there was something dreadful wrong about the whole thing.
human
And this Mr. Vyking--was he the child's father--the woman's husband?
gpt
Nobody knew, but everybody thought who. I've always been of opinion myself that Guy's father and mother were gentlefolks, and I always shall be.
human
Does the boy know his own story?
gpt
Yes, your ladyship--all I've told you.
human
Where is he? I should like to see him.
gpt
I'll fetch him. He's up-stairs in Legard's, I know.