But Mrs. Leigh had fainted. The strange joy and shame, and gushing love for the little child had overpowered her; it was some time before Susan could bring her round. There she was all trembling, sick impatience to look at the little frocks. Among them was a slip of paper which Susan had forgotten to name, that had been pinned to the bundle. On it was scrawled in a round stiff hand.
“Call her Anne. She does not cry much, and takes a deal of notice. God bless you and forgive me.”
The writing was no clue at all; the name “Anne,” common though it was, seemed something to build upon. But Mrs. Leigh recognized one of the frocks instantly, as being made out of part of a gown that she and her daughter had bought together in Rochdale.
She stood up, and stretched out her hands in the attitude of blessing over Susan’s bent head.
“God bless you, and show you His mercy in your need, as you have shown it to this little child.”
She took the little creature in her arms, and smoothed away her sad looks to a smile, and kissed it fondly, saying over and over again, “Nanny, Nanny, my little Nanny.” At last the child was soothed, and looked in her face and smiled back again.
“I never saw her to the best of my knowledge. I think it must be her’s by the frock. But where can she be?”
“God knows,” said Mrs. Leigh; “I dare not think she’s dead. I’m sure she isn’t.”
“No! she’s not dead. Every now and then a little packet is thrust under our door, with maybe two half-crowns in it; once it was a half-sovereign. Altogether I’ve got seven-and-thirty shillings wrapped up for Nanny. I never touch it, but I’ve often thought the poor mother feels near to God when she brings this money. Father wanted to set the policeman to watch, but I said No, for I was afraid if she was watched she might not come, and it seemed such a holy thing to be checking her in, I could not find in my heart to do it.”
“Oh, if we could but find her! I’d take her in my arms, and we’d just lie down and die together.”
“Nay, don’t speak so!” said Susan gently, “for all that’s come and gone, she may turn right at last. Mary Magdalen did, you know.”
“Eh! but I were nearer right about thee than Will. He thought you would never look on him again if you knew about Lizzie. But thou’rt not a Pharisee.”