Quitting her, she glided to the door, softly turned the key in the lock, ascertained that it was fast, and came back. She bent over her. She threw back the curtain to admit the moonlight more freely. She gazed intently on her face.
"Then, if you love me," said she, speaking quickly, with an altered voice; "if you feel as if, to use your own words, you could 'grow to my heart,' it will be neither shock nor pain for you to know that _that_ heart is the source whence yours was filled; that from _my_ veins issued the tide which flows in _yours_; that you are _mine_--my daughter--my own child."
"Mrs. Pryor----"
"My own child!"
"That is--that means--you have adopted me?"
"It means that, if I have given you nothing else, I at least gave you life; that I bore you, nursed you; that I am your true mother. No other woman can claim the title; it is _mine_."

Gliding to the door, she softly turned the key in the lock, and came back. She bent over Caroline and gazed intently on her face.
"Then, if you love me," said she, "it will be neither shock nor pain for you to know that from my veins issued the blood which flows in yours; that you are mine - my daughter - my own child."
"Mrs. Pryor-"
"My own child!"
"That means - you have adopted me?"
"It means that, if I have given you nothing else, I at least gave you life; that I bore you, nursed you; that I am your true mother."
