“Something to live for!” Leslie’s hands met in a passionate clasp. “Something to live for! Right, woman; I have. Tell me, since you have brought me back to myself, how, how can I ransom Daisy Warburton?”
Mamma’s time has come. Slowly she wipes away an imaginary tear, softly she draws her chair yet nearer Leslie, gently she begins.
“Leschen, my poor girl, don’t think us guilty of stealing your little one; don’t. When you came here that night, I thought you were wild. But now,—since you have been sick—something has happened.”
She paused to note the effect of her words, but Leslie sat quite still, with her hands tightly locked together.
“Something has happened?” she echoed coldly. “I felt sure it would; go on.”
“It isn’t what you think, my girl. We haven’t found your little dear; but there is a person—”
“Go on,” commanded Leslie: “straight to the point. Go on!”
“A person who might find the child, if—”
“If he or she were sufficiently rewarded,” supplied Leslie. “Quick; tell me, what must Daisy’s ransom be?”
Mamma’s pulse beats high, her breath comes fast and loud. It is not in her nature to trifle with words now. She leans forward and breathes one word into Leslie’s ear.