On his way Quincy dropped into the Marlborough, but Mr. Fernborough had
not been there, and Quincy imagined that the little hotel in Central
Court was his last hope.
His persistence was rewarded. Mr. Fernborough was not only a guest, but
he was in his room. Quincy sent up his card, and in a very short time
was shown into the presence of a courtly gentleman, between sixty and
seventy years of age. His face was smooth shaven, and had a firm but not
hard expression. His eyes, however, showed that he was weighed down by
some sorrow, which the unyielding expression of his face indicated that
he would bear in silence rather than seek sympathy from others.
Quincy's story was soon told. The old gentleman listened with breathless
interest, and when at the close Quincy said, "What do you think?" Mr.
Fernborough cried, "It must be she, my daughter's child. There are no
other Fernboroughs in England, and Linda has been a family name for
generations. Heaven bless you, young man, for your kindly interest, and
take me to my grandchild at once. She is the only tie that binds me to
earth.
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