"No; nor to reproach you with your wickedness," Eliot answered, sternly, his handsome face pale and set, his splendid eyes full of scorn. "I brought you here, madame, to say that in return for my leniency in not denouncing you to the law for your attempt upon my life, I demand at your hands one simple act of justice." "Justice!" she echoed, vaguely. "Yes, to me," said Una, drawing nearer. "Oh, Madame Lorraine, the time is come at last when you must tell me who and what I am. You have denied to me even a name, but however poor and obscure my origin, I surely have a right to some name, and I can no longer bear Mrs. Van Zandt's sneers at the mystery that infolds me. Speak, madame, and dissipate the cloud that veils the past." "Speak!" Eliot echoed, sternly. Then there was a moment of terrible suspense and silence. Madame had drawn back hurriedly from the two with an expression of alarm and trouble on her mobile white face. At last: "Oh, you know not what you ask!" she faltered, with emotion. Growing ashen pale, Una cried out hoarsely: "I am ready to hear--even the worst." Eliot came to her side and drew her cold hand gently through his arm. "Do not look so frightened, Una, my love," he said, gently. "If madame speaks the truth, she will say you are well-born and of noble parentage." Madame gave him a look of fierce wrath and scorn. "Are you so sure?" she sneered. "Better let me go, then, with your fatal question unanswered, and hug that vain delusion to your breast." Eliot answered dauntlessly: "Most willingly, only for Una's sake. She has some natural curiosity on the subject, and I have promised her it shall be gratified." The beautiful face of Mme. Lorraine grew positively fiendish with the evil smile that flashed across it. "A true daughter of Eve," she said; "but your Una, as you call her, if she persists in her curiosity, may purchase her knowledge at as bitter cost as did the adventurous lady of Eden." "I am not afraid of the truth, if you will only speak it and have done, madame," Una cried out, impatiently; and Eliot felt her tremble violently as she leaned against him. Then both looked at the clever actress in surprise. Her face had changed its expression, as if by magic, from hate and scorn to softness, gentleness, and poignant regret. Her splendid orbs were dim as with a mist of tears. Clasping her jeweled hands together in strong agitation, she faltered, pleadingly: "Do not press me so hard, for--oh, how can I tell you what you ask?" "Do you mean that there is shame, disgrace, linked with--my birth--my parentage?" Una demanded, almost wildly. Mme. Lorraine gave her a cunning upward glance full of a sort of contemptuous pity.