"And you do not blame me? You are not angry with me?" she said, lifting her fair, troubled face with a look of wonder, mingled with relief. "No, my sweet one. How could I blame you? It was like your sweet, impulsive self," he answered. "But tell me now, Queenie if you will----" But at that moment the shrill scream of a woman broke the silence of the night, and Queenie sprang to her feet with a sob of grief and terror. "It is your mother, dearest. She is there with Sydney. Can you bear to go to her, Queenie? Perhaps it may comfort her to have one daughter restored to her in the hour that she has lost another." "Yes, yes, I will go," she moaned, turning toward the door. He drew her hand into his and led her around to the fatal western door. Mrs. Lyle was there, down on her knees by her dead daughter, weeping and mourning, and Georgina stood apart, sobbing in her husband's arms. Queenie rushed forward and threw herself down by the side of the kneeling woman. "Mamma, mamma," she sobbed, "let me comfort you a little. Sydney is dead, but Queenie has come back to you to try to fill her place." Mrs. Lyle shook off the white arm that had been thrown around her neck and sprang to her feet. "How dare you touch me?" she cried, "you whose siren wiles have wrought my daughter's death? Go away from me, vile imposter that you are! My daughter Queenie is dead." "No, no, mamma, she lives; she was saved from death! Oh, let me tell you all! I am your daughter Queenie!" cried the actress, in a voice of passionate pleading, lifting her streaming eyes to her mother's face. "Begone! You are no child of mine!" was the angry reply, as Mrs. Lyle drew away from her, disdainful of her very touch. "Oh, go! go! You have stolen Sydney's husband; you have caused her death; you cannot deceive me also. Will not someone take her away?" Queenie stood still, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, listening to her mother's cruel words. Then she crossed over to Lady Valentine, who stood within the clasp of her husband's arms weeping bitterly. "Georgie," she said, in a tremulous voice, "won't _you_ speak to me? Don't _you_ know me? Sydney recognized me and owned me for her sister, even though I stood in her way. Surely you will not disown me!" Georgie lifted her head and looked at the beautiful pleader a moment in silence. She was not a bad woman, this Lady Valentine, and for a moment an impulse of pity stirred her heart and prompted her to believe this strange story at which her husband had sneered, and which her mother affected to disbelieve. If she had been left to herself the better impulse in her heart would have triumphed, perhaps. Even as it was a momentary tender remembrance came into her heart as she recalled the night of her father's and sister's death! She recalled his words: "Georgie, forgive her; she was more sinned against than sinning. She went mad and avenged the wrong. Remember that when she comes back."