Before that day closed, the Ansteds had a revelation.
It was Alice, the young lady daughter of the house, who had come up to show Mrs. Foster the way, and who lingered and chatted with the cheerful young prisoner after Mrs. Foster had taken her departure. She stooped for Claire's handkerchief, which had dropped, and said, as her eye fell on the name:
"I know of a young lady who has your full name. That is singular, is it not? The name is not a common one."
"Who is she?" asked Claire, interested. "Is she nice? Shall I immediately claim relationship?"
"I am not in the least acquainted with her, though I fancy from what I have heard that she may be very 'nice.' She was pointed out to me once at a concert in Boston, by a gentleman who had some acquaintance with her. She is the daughter of Sidney L. Benedict, a millionnaire. I suppose you do not know of her, though she is a namesake. I heard more about her father perhaps than I did of her. Ever so many people seemed to admire him as a wonderful man; very benevolent, you know, and sort of hopelessly good, he seemed to me. I remember telling my brother Louis that it must be rather oppressive to have such a reputation for goodness to sustain. Were you ever in Boston?"
The music-teacher was so long in answering, that Miss Alice turned toward her questioningly, and found that the eyes, but a moment, before so bright, were brimming with tears.
"I beg your pardon," she said, sympathetically, "does your ankle pain you so badly? Something ought to be done for it. I will call mamma."
"It is not that," she said gently, and smiled. "I forgot my ankle, and where I was, and everything. He was a good man, Miss Ansted; good and true to the heart's core, and his goodness was not oppressive, it was his joy. He has gone now to wear his crown, and I am proud to be his daughter Claire. But oh, there are times when the longing to see him rolls over me so that it swallows every other thought." And then the poor little teacher buried her head in the lace-trimmed pillows and cried outright!
"Mamma, what do you think! Louis, can you believe it possible? She is one of the Boston Benedicts! A daughter of that Sidney L. about whom we heard so much when we were with the Maitlands!"