We must try and find out something about this poor woman who
has died in such a melancholy way.'
"It was easier to say that than to do it. The poor thing had nothing
with her but a change of linen for herself and the child, and that gave
us no clue. Then we searched her pocket. There was a cambric
handkerchief in it, marked 'M. G.;' and some bits of rusks to sop for
the child; and the sixpence and halfpence which she had when I met her;
and beneath all, in a corner, as if it had been forgotten there, a
small hair bracelet. It was made of two kinds of hair--very little of
one kind, and a good deal of the other. And on the flat clasp of the
bracelet there was cut in tiny letters, _'In memory of S. G.'_ I
remember all this, sir, for I've often and often looked at the bracelet
since that time.
"We found nothing more--no letters, or cards, or anything. The
clergyman said that the 'M. G.' on the handkerchief must be the
initials of her name; and the 'S. G.' on the bracelet must mean, he
thought, some relation whose hair she wore as a sort of keepsake. I
remember Peggy and me wondering which was S. G.'s hair; and who the
other person might be, whose hair was wove into the bracelet. But the
clergyman he soon cut us short by asking for pen, ink, and paper
directly.
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