“Hear who my father was!” she repeated, this time almost in a whisper.
“Yes; I can tell you all that, and more, too. I’ve got a wonderfully interesting story for you. You’ll not want to go when I begin. Sit down.”
“What do you know? Tell me quickly.”
“Don’t be impatient. It’s a long story. It begins on the Nevada desert. That’s where you were born; not in the cabin in Eldorado County, as I heard you telling Jake Shackleton that day at Mrs. Willers’.”
He was watching her like a tiger, still standing with his back against the door. Her eyes were on him, wild and intent. Each word fell like a drop of vitriol on her brain. She saw that he knew everything.
“Your mother was Lucy Fraser, but your father was not Dan Moreau. He was a very different man, and you were his eldest child, his eldest and only legitimate child. Do you know what his name was?”
“Yes,” said Mariposa in a low voice; “Jake Shackleton.”
It was Essex’s turn to be amazed. He stared at her, speechless, completely staggered.
“DON’T YOU WANT TO HEAR WHO YOU ARE?”