IN SEARCH OF A MOTHER.


Three months had gone by since the accident at Burnham Shaft. They
were summer months, full of sunshine and green landscapes and singing
birds and blossoming flowers and all things beautiful. But in the
house from which the body of Robert Burnham had been carried to the
grave there were still tears and desolation. Not, indeed, as an
outward show; Margaret Burnham was very brave, and hid her grief
under a calm exterior, but there were times, in the quiet of her own
chamber, when loneliness and sorrow came down upon her as a burden
too great for her woman's heart to bear. Still, she had her daughter
Mildred, and the child's sweet ways and ceaseless chatter and fond
devotion charmed her, now and then, into something almost like
forgetfulness. She often sighed, and said: "If only Ralph had lived,
that I might have both my children with me now!"

One morning, toward the middle of September, Lawyer John H. Sharpman
rang the bell at the door of the Burnham mansion, sent his card up to
Mrs. Burnham, and seated himself gracefully in an easy-chair by the
parlor window to wait for her appearance.

She came soon and greeted him with gracious dignity. He was very
courteous to her; he apologized for coming, in this way, without
previous announcement, but said that the nature of his errand seemed
to render it necessary.

"I am sure no apology is required," she replied; "I shall be pleased
to listen to you."