"Passée," she observed laconically, adding: "Besides, it has got to be a grind, as John used to say when he had anything like work to do."
Helen with difficulty repressed a cry as this old, familiar phrase fell upon her ears; but she drew herself haughtily erect.
"I shall give you no money," she reiterated.
The actress laughed in her face.
"I was told in San Francisco that your daughter has grown to be a beautiful young woman," she said. "How do you think she would enjoy having her father's history served up in the newspapers here? It would be a sweet morsel for your fine acquaintances—wouldn't it?—with the pictures of all three of you, and mine to go with them, to head the chapter! And I have them; I found them among John's things, and have kept them all these years. Now, I will sell them to you for a fair consideration, or I will give them, with that savory story, to the first reporter who will make it worth my while."
This terrible threat nearly caused Helen to collapse. At the same time her brain was very active as she reviewed the situation. Marie had several times addressed her as Mrs. Hungerford, which convinced her that, although she had managed to obtain considerable information regarding her in San Francisco—how, she could not comprehend—it was evident she had not learned that she had repudiated her name; consequently, even if she attempted to give her story to the newspapers, it was doubtful if any one would suspect that Madam Helen Ford, the popular drawing-room artiste, of New York, was once the wronged and deserted wife of John Hungerford, of California.
She had changed much in appearance, and Dorothy had entirely outgrown her girlish looks; hence those old photographs, even if reproduced in the newspapers, would not be associated with either herself or her daughter, for such cuts were seldom much better than caricatures, even at their best. She believed she would really gain nothing if she yielded to the actress' demand that she buy them from her, for, having once obtained money in this way, she would doubtless follow up her advantage with other efforts of a similar nature, and thus subject her to an intolerable bondage.
As these thoughts flashed through her mind, Helen took courage and began to lose her temper at the same time.
"I shall pay you nothing for those photographs, or bribe you to silence," she spiritedly returned, "and if you are so lost to all sense of honor and humanity as to seek to bring disgrace upon two innocent and long-suffering people, who, for years, have patiently struggled to rise above the desperate conditions imposed upon them through no fault of their own, you will have to take whatever satisfaction you may reap in carrying out your malicious purpose——"
"You will be sorry for this, madam——"