“Who was my mother?”
“Bess, I do not know.”
“Did they kill her?”
This time Jeffray’s hand fastened upon the girl’s.
“I fear so,” he said, gravely.
“She was a lady?”
“Yes, so Ursula believed. It was your mother who wore the brooch your husband gave you. We may learn more of the past if the treasure is discovered.”
There was silence between them for a moment. Bess was breathing deeply, her face shining white under her black hair as she suffered the revelation to sink slowly into her soul. Jeffray, still holding her hand, watched her with a great light in his dark eyes. It was his life’s desire to save this woman whom he loved from further pain and tribulation.
Bess turned to him suddenly, her face flushing, her eyes searching his.
“Ah—then you will not marry a beggar-woman,” she said.