Born of her weakness, her misery, her growing delirium, came a fierce, unreasoning rebellion; a longing to thrust upon the shoulders of Alan Warburton, who, more than any other, had been the cause of her present woe, a portion of this weight that dragged her down. Had she not suffered enough for the "Warburton honor?" Why not force him to tread with her this valley of humiliation?

Then followed other thoughts--better thoughts, humbler thoughts, but all morbid, all tinged by her half delirious fancy, all reckless of self.

And now every moment adds to her torture, increases the fever in her blood, the frenzy of her brain.

"I _must_ end it!" she cries wildly. "I _must_ save Daisy! And after that what matter how my day goes out?"

She walks swiftly to the door and attempts to open it. Useless; it is fastened from the outer side. She seizes the handle and shakes it fiercely. It seems an hour, it is really a moment, when Mamma unlocks the door and appears before her.

"You--"

"I have decided," breaks in Leslie. "I shall make the sacrifice."

"You will marry this worthy man?"

"I will save Daisy from your clutches, and his."

"In his own way?"

"In his own way, and yours. Let it be over as soon as possible. Where is this man?"

"Gently, gently; he is not far away."

"So much the better. I cannot rest now till all is done. I must take Daisy back to her home; the rest is nothing."

Mamma looks at her craftily.

"You agree to _all_ the terms?" she asks. "Will you swear to keep your word?"

"I will do anything, when I am a.s.sured that I shall have Daisy safely back."

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.es Mamma, indulging in a long sigh of relieved anxiety, "I will go tell Franz. He is as anxious to have the business settled as you are."

"_Franz!_"

"Yes; it is Franz that you will marry."

"Franz!" the word comes in a breathless whisper. "_Your son--the convict?_"

"You needn't put so much force upon that. Yes; Franzy's the man."

A new look dawns upon Leslie's face. A new light gleams from her eyes.

She presses her palms to her forehead, then slowly approaches Mamma, with the uncertain movements of one groping in the dark.

"You told--" she articulates, as if struggling for self-mastery. "Woman, you told me that Franz Francoise was _your_ son."

"So he is. _I_ ain't ashamed of him," Mamma answers sullenly.

"Then,"--Leslie clutches at the nearest support and fairly gasps the words--"then--_who am I_?"

"Well, it can't be kept back any longer, it seems. You are--"

"Not your child?" cries Leslie. "Not yours?"

"No; you ain't ours by birth, but you're ours by adoption. We've reared ye, and we've made ye what ye are."

But Leslie pays no heed to this latter statement. She has fallen upon her knees with hands uplifted, and streaming eyes.

"Not her child; not hers! Oh, G.o.d, I thank thee! Oh, G.o.d, forgive me for what I was about to do!"

Long, shivering sighs follow this outburst; then moments of silence, during which Mamma stands irresolute, puzzled as to Leslie's manner, uncertain how to act.

A sound behind her breaks the uncomfortable stillness, and Mamma turns quickly, to see Franz standing in the open doorway.

"Franz,--" begins the old woman.

The word arouses Leslie, she rises to her feet so swiftly, with such sudden strength of movement, and such a new light upon her face, that Mamma breaks off abruptly and stands staring from one to the other.

"Woman," says Leslie slowly and with strange calm, "those are the first welcome words you ever uttered for my hearing. Say them again. Say that I am not your child."

"I don't see what it matters," mutters Mamma sullenly. "You will be our'n fast enough when you're married to Franz."

"Eh!" Franz utters only this syllable, and advances step by step into the room.

A moment Leslie stands gazing from one to the other. Then her form grows more erect, the new hope brighter in her eyes, she seems growing stronger each moment.

"Half an hour ago," she says, "I had not one thing to hope for, or to live for, save the restoration of Daisy Warburton, for I believed myself accursed. Rebel as my soul would, while your lips repeated your claim upon me I could not escape you. While you persisted in your lies, I was helpless. Now--"

Mamma's hands work convulsively; her eyes glitter dangerously; she looks like a cat about to spring upon its prey. As Leslie pauses thus abruptly, her lips emit a sharp hiss, but before words can follow, a heavy hand grasps her arm.

"Go on," says Franz coolly; "now?"

"Do you know the proposition that woman has just made me?" asks Leslie abruptly.

"'Twon't be good for her, if she has made ye a proposition I don't know on," says Franz grimly, and tightening his clutch upon Mamma's arm. "An'

fer fear of any hocus-pocus, suppose you jest go over it fer my benefit."

"She has told me that you can, if you will, restore Daisy Warburton to her home."

"No? has she?"

"That you, and you only, know where to look for the child."

"Umph!"

"And that you will restore the child only on one condition."

"And wot's that?"