"Yes," went on the elder woman with impetuous haste, "look at me. I have grown older and wiser since those days. But I was proud when I was young, and self-willed, and determined to have my way. I had three daughters: Maida, whom you see here, Delight and Muriel. We lived in Virginia and my children's beauty was the talk of the county. Maida married Richard Galbraith, a descendant of one of our oldest families, and I rejoiced in the alliance. For Delight, my second daughter, I chose as husband the son of one of my oldest friends, a rich young landholder who although older than she I knew would bring her name and fortune. But the girl, high-spirited like myself but lacking my ambition, would have none of him. All unbeknown to any of us, she had fallen in love with Ralph Hathaway, a handsome, penniless adventurer from the West. There was nothing against the man save that he was young, headstrong, and had his way to make, but he balked me in my plans and I hated him for it. In vain did I try to break off the match. It was useless. The pair loved one another devotedly and refused to be separated." Madam Lee ceased speaking for an instant; then went on resolutely. "When I say my daughter had all the Lee determination, you will guess the rest. She fled from home and although I spared no money to trace her, I never saw or heard of her again. The next year, as if in judgment upon me, Muriel, my youngest child, died and I had but one daughter remaining. It was then that, saddened and chastened by sorrow, I regretted my narrowness and injustice and prayed to God for the chance to wipe out my cruelty. But my prayers went unanswered, and all these years forgiveness has been denied me. Now I am old but God is merciful. He has not let me die with this weight upon my soul." She bowed her head on Delight's shoulder and wept. "Your mother?" she whispered, when she was able to enunciate the words. "My mother died in California when I was born. Then my father took to the sea and carried me with him. We sailed until I was ten years old, when his ship--" "I know," interrupted Madam Lee gently. She gave a long sigh. "We--we must speak more of this later," murmured she. "I am tired now." As she dropped back against the cushions, Celestina rose softly and motioned the others to follow her; but when Delight attempted to slip away the hand resting on hers tightened. "You are not leaving me!" pleaded the old lady faintly. "I will come back again," answered the girl in a soothing tone. "When? To-morrow?" "If you wish it, Madam L--" "Call me grandmother, my child," said the woman, a smile rare in its peace and beauty breaking over her drawn countenance. CHAPTER XVI ANOTHER BLOW DESCENDS