“Mrs. Weir!” said Florence, speaking with blended surprise and indignation in the tones of her voice. The veil was drawn aside, revealing the pale face and glittering black eyes of Adele’s mother. Her thin lips were firmly set, and the expression of the woman’s countenance was resolute.
“I have come for my child!” she said, in a voice that betrayed much agitation of mind.
“She is not here,” Florence replied.
“She was brought here,” said the woman, fixing her piercing eyes upon the face of Miss Harper.
“She came here to restore to her mother the child a wicked woman enticed away, and you secreted, making yourself thereby a party to the crime.”
“And is here now?” said Mrs. Weir.
“No, she is not here,” answered Florence. “I said that once before.”
“Then where is she?”
Florence turned to Mr. Fleetwood, and the old gentleman promptly took her place.
“Beyond the reach of your blighting influence, madam,” said he, in his decided way, “and, I trust, forever beyond.”