Mamma drew forward a chair, and sank upon it with a gratified sigh. It had come at last, the opportunity for which she had planned and waited. She could scarcely conceal her satisfaction. "You have nursed me," began Leslie slowly, "through a tedious illness, and I have learned that you do nothing gratuitously. What do you expect of me?" "Oh, my child--" "Stop!" lifting her head, and fixing her eyes upon the old woman; "no evasions; I want the plain truth. I have no money. My husband's fortune I will never claim. I have told you this; I repeat it. So _what_ do you expect of me? Why was I not permitted to die in my delirium?" Among her other talents, Mamma Francoise numbered that power, as useful off the stage as it is profitable behind the footlights--the power to play a part. And now, bringing this power into active use, she bowed her head upon her breast and sighed heavily. "Ah, Leschen, you break my heart. We wanted you to live; we thought you had something to live for." The acting was excellent, but the words were ill-chosen. "Something to live for!" Leslie's hands met in a passionate clasp. "Something to live for! Right, woman; I have. Tell me, since you have brought me back to myself, how, _how_ can I ransom Daisy Warburton?" Mamma's time has come. Slowly she wipes away an imaginary tear, softly she draws her chair yet nearer Leslie, gently she begins. "Leschen, my poor girl, don't think _us_ guilty of stealing your little one; don't. When you came here that night, I thought you were wild. But now,--since you have been sick--something has happened." She paused to note the effect of her words, but Leslie sat quite still, with her hands tightly locked together. "Something has happened?" she echoed coldly. "I felt sure it would; go on." "It isn't what you think, my girl. We haven't found your little dear; but there is a person--" "Go on," commanded Leslie: "straight to the point. _Go on!_" "A person who _might_ find the child, if--" "If he or she were sufficiently rewarded," supplied Leslie. "Quick; tell me, what must Daisy's ransom be?" Mamma's pulse beats high, her breath comes fast and loud. It is not in her nature to trifle with words now. She leans forward and breathes one word into Leslie's ear. "_Yourself._" "Myself!" Leslie gasps and her brain reels. "_Myself!_" she controls her agitation, and asks fiercely: "Woman, what do you dare to say?" "Only this," Mamma continues, very firmly and with the tiger look dawning in her eye. "You have no money, but you have beauty, and that is much to a man. Will you marry the man who will find your little girl?" In spite of her weakness, Leslie springs up and stands above Mamma, a fierce light blazing in her eyes. "Woman, _answer me_!" she cries fiercely; "do you know where that child is?" "I? Oh, no, my dear." "Is there another, a man, who knows?" Slowly Mamma rises, and the two face each other with set features.