Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work

"I shall be glad to."

"The poet Saxe," said Mr. Burke, walking through the gap beside Louise, "has never been properly appreciated by his countrymen, although since his death his verses are in greater demand than while he lived. Do you care for them?"

"I don't know Saxe very well," she answered, observing that they were approaching a place where Eliza was bending over a rose-bush. "But one or two of his poems are so amusing that they linger in my memory."

Eliza turned at the sound of their voices and gave them a quick glance. But the next moment she resumed her occupation of cutting roses.

"The man's greatest fault was his habit of punning," remarked the detective, watching the girl's form as he drew nearer. "It is that which blinded his contemporaries to his real talents. What exquisite roses, Miss Merrick! May I ask for one for my button-hole?"

"Yes, indeed!" she replied, pausing with him just beside Eliza. "Will you cut that bud yonder, for Mr. Burke, my dear?"

The maid silently obeyed and as the detective took the flower from her hand he said:

"Why, isn't this Eliza Parsons?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, carelessly.

"Don't you remember me, Eliza?"

She seemed a little surprised, but answered promptly:

"No, sir."

"I'm William Burke, your mother's cousin. How did you leave your brother Harry, and have you heard from Josephine lately?"

The girl gave him a startled look and shrank back.

"Why, how nice!" cried Louise. "I did not know you knew Eliza's family, Mr. Burke."

"Yes, she is one of my relatives, and came from Roanoke, Virginia. Isn't that correct, Eliza?"

"Yes, sir – no! I – I don't remember!" she said, in a low tone.

"Don't remember, Eliza? That is strange."

The girl stared at him half frightened, and drew her hand over her eyes with a gesture of bewilderment.

"I hope, my dear, you are not going to be like your mother," said Mr. Burke, gently. "My poor cousin Nora was subject to a strange lapse of memory at times," he remarked to Louise. "She always recovered in time, but for days she could remember nothing of her former life – not even her own name. Are you ever affected that way Eliza?"

She looked up at him pleadingly, and murmured in a low voice:

"Let me go! Please let me go!"

"In a moment, Eliza."

Her hands were clasped together nervously and she had dropped her basket and scissors on the path before her. The man looked intently into her eyes, in a shrewd yet kindly way, and she seemed as if fascinated by his gaze.

"Tell me, my dear, have you forgotten your old life?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Poor girl! And you are trying to keep this a secret and not let anyone know of your trouble?"

Suddenly she started and sprang away, uttering a cry of terror.

"You're trying to trap me," she panted. "You know my name is not Eliza Parsons. You – you want to ruin me!"

From the position in which they stood in the corner of the garden, with high hedges behind the maid, and Mr. Burke and Louise blocking the path in front, there was little chance of escape. But she looked around wildly, as if about to make the attempt, when Louise stepped forward and gently took Eliza's hand in her own.

"Mr. Burke is a good man, my dear, and means well by you," she said in her sweet, sympathetic tones. "He shall not bother you if you are afraid of him."

"I – I'm not afraid," said Eliza, with a resumption of her old manner and a toss of her head.

The detective gave Louise a look which she thought she understood.

"Will you finish cutting these roses, Mr. Burke?" she asked, with a smile. "Eliza and I are going to my room. Come, my dear," and without waiting for a reply she led the girl, whose hand was still clasped in her own, along the path.

Eliza came willingly. Her manner was a little defiant at first, but when Louise drew her unobserved to the side entrance and up the staircase she grew gentle and permitted the other girl to take her arm.

Once in her room with the strange maid, Louise locked the door quietly and said to her companion with a cheerful smile:

"Now we are quite alone, and can talk at our ease. Take that low chair, dear, and I'll sit here."

Eliza obeyed, looking wistfully into the fair face of her new friend.

"You are very pretty, Eliza; and I'm sure you are as good as you're pretty," announced Louise. "So you must tell me about yourself, and whether you are happy here or not. From this time on I'm going to be your friend, you know, and keep all your secrets; and I'll help you all I can."

This rambling speech seemed to impress Eliza favorably. She relaxed somewhat from the tense alertness that was habitual with her, and looked at the other girl with a softened expression.

"I'm afraid you won't be much interested in me," she replied, "but I need a friend – indeed I need a friend, Miss Louise!"

"I'm sure you do."

"At first I thought I could do without one. I felt I must stand alone, and let no one suspect. But – I'm getting puzzled and bewildered, and I don't know what to do next."

"Of course not. Tell me about it, dear."

"I can't; for I don't know, myself." She leaned forward in her chair and added, in a whisper: "I don't even know who I am! But that man," with a shudder, "tried to trap me. He said he knew Eliza Parsons, and there is no Eliza Parsons. It's a name I – I invented."

"I think I understand," said Louise, with a little nod. "You had to have a name, so you took that one."

"Yes. I don't know why I am telling you this. I've tried to hide it all so carefully. And perhaps I'm wrong in letting this thing worry me. In the main, I've been very happy and content, lately; and – I have a feeling I was not happy before – before – "

"Before what, dear?"

The girl looked at her steadily and her face grew red.

"Before I lost my memory."