A hot and passionate resentment against them surged up into Golden's wounded heart. What right had her mother to be so fair and happy when she had sinned so grievously? Perhaps she would be very angry when she knew that the child she had so pitilessly deserted had hunted her down to confront her with her sin. "I will wait a little. I will not speak yet," she said. "I shall know them better after awhile, and I shall know how to approach them better." So the days waned and faded. Golden began to become very well acquainted with the beautiful woman whom she believed to be her mother. She was vain, frivolous, heartless. The pure-hearted girl recoiled instinctively from her. But she could not understand Mr. Leith so well. He was a mystery to her. Some settled shadow seemed to brood heavily over him always. He was engrossed with his studies and business. Golden wondered if it was remorse that preyed so heavily on him. She had never seen a smile on the stern, finely-cut lips. There was one thing that struck her strangely, Richard Leith and his so-called wife did not appear very fond of each other. The gentleman was studiously courteous, polite and kind, but Golden never saw on his expressive face that light of adoring tenderness she had loved to see on Bertram Chesleigh's whenever he looked at her. Mrs. Leith was totally absorbed in her dresses, her novels, and her daily drives, during which she excited much admiration by her beauty and her exquisite toilets. But love and passion--these seemed to be worn-out themes between the strangely-mated pair. They addressed each other formally as Mr. and Mrs. Leith, but Golden had noticed that the lady's clothing was marked "G. L." She knew, of course, that the letter G. stood for Golden, but when she asked her about it with apparent carelessness one day, the lady answered that it was for Gertrude. "She has discarded even her name," her daughter mused bitterly. "Perhaps she has even forgotten her old home and her deserted father and her little child." And in spite of herself Golden felt that she heartily despised the woman whom she should have loved in spite of all her faults because she was her mother. But some strange and subtle fascination drew her nearer and nearer to Richard Leith. Her anger and scorn which she had tried to foster at first began to dissolve in spite of herself into a yearning and sorrowful tenderness. CHAPTER XXXIII. Several weeks went by, and Golden wondered very much if the Desmonds had returned to the city, and if the lady still held her unjust suspicions and jealousy against her. She often wondered as she looked at Richard Leith's stern, set face, why Bertram Chesleigh had written to him, and for what object. One day she heard Mrs. Leith remark to her husband that she had seen Mr. Desmond driving in the park alone that morning.