She sprang up and stood before him, with a look of white despair on her lovely young face.
"Now I understand it all," she said. "I know why my life is so unlike that of other girls. Oh, grandpa, grandpa, tell me where to find my mother that I may curse her for my ruined life!"
His only answer was a low and heart-wrung groan.
"Grandpa, tell me where to find her," repeated little Golden, wildly. "She must be living, for I remember now that no one has ever told me plainly that she was dead. I will go to her—I will reproach her for her sin! I will tell her what a life mine has been—how I have been hated and despised for my mother's fault, even by my kindred."
Sighs, long and bitter, heaved the old man's breast, but he answered her not. She flung herself weeping at his feet.
"You do not speak!" she cried. "Oh, grandpa, tell me where to find my cruel mother!"
"She is with your father," said Hugh Glenalvan, in a deep and bitter voice that showed what agony he endured in the revelation of his daughter's disgrace and infamy.
Golden threw up her little hands in convulsive agony.
"Oh, not that!" she cried. "Tell me it is not true!"