“There is a slight probability I may have had at some past period,” said Leoline, sighing; “but none that I ever knew.”
“Why does not Prudence tell you?”
“Prudence is only my nurse, and says she has nothing to tell. My parents died when I was an infant, and left me in her care—that is her story.”
“A likely one enough, and yet I see by your face that you doubt it.”
“I do doubt it! There are a thousand little outward things that make me fancy it is false, and an inward voice that assures me it is so.”
“Then let me tell you that inward voice tells falsehoods, for I know that your father and mother are both dead these fourteen years!”
Leoline's great black eyes were fixed on her face with a look so wild and eager, that La Masque laid her hand lightly and soothingly on her shoulder.
“Don't look at me with such a spectral face! What is there so extraordinary in all I have said?”
“You said you knew my father and mother.”
“No such thing! I said I knew they were dead, but the other fact is true also; I did know them when living!”