The fellow
sent for me to go and see him in gaol. I went, and this is what he says:
'The fool that defended me is a chicken-livered son of a--and all
the rest of it,' he says. 'I've got a job to be done for me up on the
Mountain, and you're the only man I seen in court that looks as if he'd
do it.' He told me he had a child up there--or thought he had--a little
girl; and he wanted her brought down and reared like a Christian. I was
sorry for the fellow, so I went up and got the child." He paused, and
Charity listened with a throbbing heart. "That's the only time I ever
went up the Mountain," he concluded.
There was a moment's silence; then Harney spoke. "And the child--had she
no mother?"
"Oh, yes: there was a mother. But she was glad enough to have her go.
She'd have given her to anybody. They ain't half human up there. I guess
the mother's dead by now, with the life she was leading. Anyhow, I've
never heard of her from that day to this."
"My God, how ghastly," Harney murmured; and Charity, choking with
humiliation, sprang to her feet and ran upstairs.
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