"Is the girl mad?" Mrs. Leith exclaimed, recoiling from her. "No, I am not mad, although my wrongs have been bitter enough to madden any human being," Golden retorted, passionately. "I am not mad, although your terrible sin has ruined my life and broken my heart." "_My_ sin, _mine_!" retorted Mrs. Leith, in apparent bewilderment. "What do you mean, girl? I am nothing to you!" "Nothing to me, oh, my God," moaned Golden, wringing her white hands. "Then you deny that you are my mother?" "_Your_ mother, girl, when I have never had a child in my life. Mr. Leith, do you not see that the wretched creature is raving mad?" cried the lady, retreating to his side apprehensively. Golden turned her flashing blue eyes on the white, startled face of the man. "She denies that she is my mother," she said. "Perhaps you will deny that you are my father." She saw a quiver pass over the man's pale face. "I do not understand your words," he replied, in a voice shaken with emotion. "Explain yourself." "I am the child Golden Glenalvan deserted at Glenalvan Hall in its helpless infancy, that she might return to New York and lead a life of shame with you," she cried out bitterly. Richard Leith's dark eyes turned on her face with a lurid gleam in their shadowed depths. "Hold!" he cried. "Whoever you are, you shall not malign the memory of poor, little Golden. She was pure as the snow." "Pure!" the girl repeated, blankly. "She was never your wife. They told me she lived with you in open shame." A startling change came over the face of Richard Leith. There was a glare, like that of madness, in his eyes. He fell backward into a chair, and the labored breath came from between his parted lips in strong, shuddering sighs. Mrs. Leith flew to his side, and bent anxiously over him. "Mr. Leith, what is it? What does all this mean? I am mystified," she cried. His heavy, dark eyes full of sorrow and despair, lifted gloomily to her wondering face. "It means," he replied, "that I have had a secret in my life, and that the time is come for you to know it. If this girl speaks truly she is indeed my daughter, though not yours." "Not hers!" echoed Golden, in bewilderment, as she looked at the beautiful woman whom she had for long weeks believed to be her mother. "Not hers," he replied, "for long before I met and married this lady, little Golden Glenalvan was dead." A startled cry came from Golden's lips. "Dead," she shuddered; "no, no; you are deceiving me." "Not so, as God is my judge," he replied. "But sit down, child, and tell me all your story. Then we may be able to understand each other." Golden glanced half-fearfully at Mrs. Leith, who stood leaning against her husband's chair, pale and silent, and anxious-looking. The lady quietly and gravely motioned her to a seat.