Few of us find our cherished dreams come true, but Laurie Meredith
had that pleasure, for on Poky's cabin floor he found his own child
playing--a dimpled tot of three years, with Flower's arch and lovely
face lighted by his own brown eyes.
Poky did not attempt to deny the truth. She was only too happy to see
Laurie Meredith and confide to him the whole story of her possession of
the child.
"I lied about it before for Miss Flower's sake," she said. "She was so
terribly 'fraid of Miss Jule dat she wouldn't 'low me to tell de trufe
eben to Sam, and she stole away, leabing de baby for dead in my arms,
and Lor', what a shock it gin me to feel, it move presently and open
its big eyes at me! 'Twan't dead at all, only smothered like for a few
minutes. Well, Miss Flower were gone den, so I concluded to take keer
o' de little one till she come back. But, Lor', she never did come
back, and I began to think she must be dead, when one day dere came a
letter wid a money order for five hundred dollars from ober in Lon'on.
I ain't got no friends in Lon'on, and says I to myself, 'tis from Miss
Flower. She done got rich somehow, but dere warn't no 'dress in de
letter, so what could I do to let her know dat little Douglas was alive
arter all? Nuthin', Massa Meredith, and I wouldn't never send word to
you 'cause I'se feard you wouldn't keer 'bout my sweet little Douglas.
But bein' as you has found it out, I'se glad, 'cause how I've been
worried nights thinkin' as how 'twan't right to raise that little w'ite
chile along o' my black one!" for Poky had a two-year-old, a bright
image of Sam, playing about the cabin floor.
Laurie Meredith took the bright, neatly dressed Douglas in his arms and
told him that he was his own papa, and that he was going to carry him a
long ways off to live with his dear grandmamma in Boston.
Here Sam lounged in, and great was his delight at seeing Laurie
Meredith again, and hearing that little Douglas was his own child.
"Dat's what I always thought, although Poky would insist dat she foun'
it down in de ole barn one day, and didn't know whose chile 'twas,
anyway," he said, with a grin of delight.
Then, having found out long ago, through mysterious hints of his clever
wife, that it was Jewel who had abstracted his precious papers, he
proceeded to gratify his spite against her by informing Laurie of the
part he had played that night in taking that important letter to Flower
and returning the answer that had so fatally changed the current of
Flower Fielding's life.
"Arter things turned out so strange I was allays afeered, Massa Laurie,
as how I done wrong a-giving her de letter, but co'se I didn't know den
what a snake in de grass she was, anyway."
While Laurie gazed at him with dilated eyes, he continued:
"What makes me all de more sure dat she played me false dat night is
dis: De young pos'-office clerk, he usen to be despret in love with
Miss Flower, and last year, w'en he died wid de fever, he 'fessed to
de preacher dat he usen to gib Miss Jewel all de letters you sent her
sister through de pos'-office, likewise hers to you, Massa Laurie. Miss
Jewel promised to marry him, but she went away to some big city, and he
nebber heerd of her no more. Lord-a-massy, Poky, look at de man--he's
a-dying!"
"No, I am not dying, Sam, although this shock has driven the blood
from my face," faintly uttered Laurie Meredith. He struggled with
his weakness a few moments, then added, "My good woman, get my child
ready, for I must go at once to right the wrong that was begun by
Sam's treachery to me that night, and by Jewel Fielding's sin. Out of
my sight, man, for I feel tempted to rend you limb from limb! Nothing
saves you except that your wife's beautiful humanity in this whole
affair condones somewhat for your sin. For her noble sake I forego my
revenge, and spare you!"