'Gold!' echoed the matron, bending eagerly over the woman as shefell back.  'Go on, go on--yest--what of it?  Who was the mother?

　　When was it?'

　　'She charge me to keep it safe,' replied the woman with a groan,'and trusted me as the only woman about her.  I stole it in myheart when she first showed it me hanging round her neck; and thechild's death, perhaps, is on me besides!  They would havetreated him better, if they had known it all!'

　　'Known what?' asked the other.  'Speak!'

　　'The boy grew so like his mother,' said the woman, rambling on,and not heeding the question, 'that I could never forget it whenI saw his face.  Poor girl! poor girl!  She was so young, too!Such a gentle lamb!  Wait; there's more to tell.  I have not toldyou all, have I?'

　　'No, no,' replied the matron, inclining her head to catch thewords, as they came more faintly from the dying woman.  'Bequick, or it may be too late!'

　　'The mother,' said the woman, making a more violent effort thanbefore; 'the mother, when the pains of death first came upon her,whispered in my ear that if her baby was born alive, and thrived,the day might come when it would not feel so much disgraced tohear its poor young mother named. "And oh, kind Heaven!" shesaid, folding her thin hands together, "whether it be boy orgirl, raise up some friends for it in this troubled world, andtake pity upon a lonely desolate child, abandoned to its mercy!"'

　　'The boy's name?' demanded the matron.

　　'They CALLED him Oliver,' replied the woman, feebly.  'The gold Istole was--'

　　'Yes, yes--what?' cried the other.

　　She was bending eagerly over the woman to hear her reply; butdrew back, instinctively, as she once again rose, slowly andstiffly, into a sitting posture; then, clutching the coverlidwith both hands, muttered some indistinct sounds in her throat,and fell lifeless on the bed.