"My little one," he said to the grave, hollow-eyed child, who seemed suddenly to have grown a full-statured woman, "go to your room and rest. You look terribly ill and wretched. Do not go back to the haunted chamber again, but to your old room down stairs. Try to sleep, if you can." He looked after her in wonder as she turned to obey him. Yesterday she had been a beautiful, charming, careless child, full of pretty, evanescent angers and quick repentances. The bloom, the smiles, the brightness were all gone now. The gold-brown lashes drooped heavily against the death-white cheeks, the sweet lips quivered heart-brokenly, the slow and lagging step was that of a weary woman. CHAPTER XIII. As soon as she had reached the seclusion of her own chamber, little Golden threw herself across her bed and wept as though her tender heart would break. Strangely nurtured as she had been, the pride of race had been as strong in her young heart as that of any Glenalvan of them all, and the shock of her grandfather's revelation had been a terrible one. "I wish that I had died in my innocent babyhood," she wept; and her black mammy, who had been lingering near her unobserved, came forward to her and said quickly, while she smoothed the golden hair lovingly with her old black hands: "You must not say dat, honey, chile. I has great hopes in your life. I has almos' wore out my ole brack knees a-prayin' an' a-prayin' to de good Lawd dat you might be de instrument to sabe your mudder from her sinful life." Little Golden looked at her black mammy with a kind of pathetic wonder in her beautiful, tearful eyes. "How could I do that, black mammy?" she said. "By seekin' dat poor soul out, Miss Golden, and 'suadin' her to forsake dat wicked man, an' spend de balance ob her life in prayin' an' repentin' ob her deadly sins," said Dinah, devoutly and earnestly. Golden sat up in the bed and looked at Dinah with eager, shining eyes and impulsively clasped hands. "Ah, black mammy, if I only could," she cried; "but you forget I do not know where to find her. I do not even know the name of that dreadful man." And she shivered at the thought of his wickedness. She remembered that he was her father, that his bad blood flowed in her veins. Old Dinah was looking at her strangely. "Little missie, what would you think if I could tell you his name?" she said, with a little note of triumph in her tone. "Could you--oh, could you?" cried little Golden, impulsively. "Jest wait one minute, darlin'," said Dinah, hobbling out of the room. Golden waited, wonderingly and impatiently. After a little while Dinah returned, and laid a small package, wrapped in tissue paper, in her hand. Golden removed the wrappers tremblingly. A small bit of crumpled pasteboard fell out into her hand. She straightened it out and devoured with eager eyes the aristocratic name printed upon it in small, clear, black type.