"Dearest of mothers," Renée read. The writing showed that the letter had been written under stress of deep emotion. "It was only because he needed me so much, for the doctors had told him his eyesight was slowly going, that I could hurt you by acting against your wishes. And sometime you may know that I have always loved you dearly and that I forgive you as I pray you will forgive me."
"Oh, my darling," and a flood of tears dropped on the sheet of paper. "It is as though she was speaking to me!" she whispered, kissing the lines. And indeed a great stillness held the room as though each of those in it felt, too, the spirit of Renée's young mother among them!
Mrs. Forrester, her eyes still dim with tears, spread out the other papers and she and Mrs. Lee and Aunt Pen fell to examining them, while Renée watched, feeling as though it was all a dream.
They found an old journal whose contents explained how John LaDue, who before his marriage with Amy Forrester had been John Tellers, had gone with his young bride to Paris where they had taken the name of LaDue. Living as they did in simple obscurity, and because John Tellers had been born and brought up among the French-speaking people of New Orleans, it was very easy for them to pass as a young French sculptor and his wife. And the friends they made were other young artists, struggling along like themselves, who could know nothing about the proud, unhappy woman who was traveling all over the world, seeking her daughter!
The journal stopped abruptly at the record of Renée's birth. Renée remembered Susette telling her that it was when she had been a tiny baby that her father had become totally blind and they had moved to St. Cloud that he might have the benefit of the pure air and the sunshine.
Aunt Pen discovered a package of papers that proved to be United States government bonds. They had been given to Renée's mother on her twentieth birthday, six months before her marriage. They had not been touched. Penelope exclaimed:
"A small fortune! And they are Renée's!"
Many thoughts were shaping in poor Renée's sadly bewildered little head. She had now, what Peggy always called "folks"--a grandmother and Elsbeth; even though it was an ugly old house she'd have a real, real home all of her own! She would not have to go to the mountain place with her guardian and the strange French soldier! And yet that disturbed her a little. Emile had, in a way, given her into the guardian's keeping and not to a strange old woman! So, even though belonging to so many, Renée felt torn and unhappy. And she looked almost scornfully at the packet which Aunt Pen held up as though precious--how could just plain papers like that be a fortune!
Mrs. Forrester, who looked less and less like a sick woman, commenced to slowly gather up the papers and place them back neatly in the leather box. When she shut down the lid she turned to Renée.
"I thank God that He has shown me His mercy! I have not deserved to find my darling. But I have been punished! No one knows how I have suffered! And maybe, even now, I am not fit to have you. I am an ugly old woman who has cast everything beautiful out of her life! Perhaps I have no right to keep you! You have good friends--go back to them, only keep in your heart a kind thought for an old woman----"