"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 assured that I shall have Daisy safely back." "Ah!" ejaculates 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, God, I thank thee! Oh, God, 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.