AN AFFECTIONATE FAMILY.
A sudden silence has fallen upon the group, and as Leslie’s clear, sad eyes rest upon first one face and then the other, Papa begins to fidget nervously.
“Oh, yes,” he sighs, “we heard about that.”
And then Mamma comes nearer, saying in a cat-like, purring tone: “The poor little dear! And you can’t find her?”
As she speaks, Franz Francoise shifts his position carelessly, placing himself where he can note the expressions of the two old faces.
But Leslie’s enforced calmness is fast deserting her.
“Woman!” she cries passionately, “drop your mask of hypocrisy! Let us understand each other. I believe that you were in my house on the night of that wretched masquerade. I have reasons for so believing. Ah, I recall many words that have fallen from your lips, now that it is too late; words that condemn you. You believed that with Daisy removed, I would become my husband’s sole heiress; and you knew that at best his life would be short. The more the money in my possession, the more you could extort from me. But I can thwart you here, and I will. You never reckoned upon my throwing away my claim to wealth, for you were never human; you never loved anything but money, or you would have pity on that poor little child. Give me back little Daisy, and every dollar I can claim shall become yours!”
Oh, the greed, the avarice, that shines from Mamma’s eyes! But Papa makes her a sign, and she remains silent, while he says, with his best imitation of gentleness:
“But, my child; but, Leschen, how can we find the little girl?”
Leslie turns upon him a look of contempt, and then a swift spasm of fear crosses her face.