"No, it is the truth," Flower answered, taming her earnest gaze on his face, and adding: "It was the knowledge of that truth that turned her dark hair white in one night, and afterward drove her to madness. And I am the helpless girl she reared as her own—I am Daisy Forrest's daughter!"
No one thought of doubting her assertion. There she stood, looking at them with the face of her whose ashes slept beneath their feet, and awing all denial into silence.
Just then Mrs. Fielding stirred, and opened her dark eyes with a dazed look. Flower bent over her with infinite pity in her sad blue eyes.
"Mamma!" she murmured, using the old, familiar name forgetfully.
"Flower!" exclaimed Mrs. Fielding, wildly, and there was a note of gladness in her voice that was plainly recognized by all. For the moment the poor woman had forgotten all but the love she had borne the girl who had been her daughter so long. Her wild expression softened into sweetness, and murmuring, "My darling!" she held out her arms to the girl, who gently assisted her to rise.
Then Mrs. Fielding saw the half-filled grave yawning at her feet, saw the curious faces around her, and fell memory returned.
She glared wildly at Flower's gentle, pitying face, and struck out fiercely with both hands to push her away.
"Ah, I forgot!" she screamed, angrily. "You do not belong to me—you are hers! Go—go, before I strike you! Go—"
But further speech was arrested by the doctor, whom she had not before observed, but who now came in front of her, and said, sharply:
"Come, Mrs. Fielding, enough of this! You must come home now with me and these keepers who came along with me to help carry you back."