"I cannot. The wound is too new. Liz, you told me that you were married to Ben Mauprat thirty years ago, did you not?"
"Yes."
"And that he deserted you and married another woman. Was there ever any divorce that enabled him to do that legally?"
"No. He married her knowing that she never could be his wife so long as I lived. He was not then what he is now. You would never believe that he was the same man, nor me the same woman, for that matter. We had a daughter that Ben was mad about. He seemed to love her as he never loved anything before or since, and she died. He blamed me with her death, when my own heart was breaking. He said that it was my neglect that had killed her. We had a terrible quarrel, he beat me and left me. I did not hear anything more of him for years, then one day I heard that he was married. I searched for the truth and found it. He was married to a young woman whose name was Lena. I saw her, and I heard him call her name. They had a child, a little girl, but Ben never seemed to care for her as he had done for our little one. I went to Ben and tried to persuade him to come back to me, but he only laughed at me. I did not tell the poor young thing that he called his wife the lie with which he had deceived her. What would have been the good? It was too late then to save her the disgrace that would have been upon her, and she was a beautiful, delicate girl. Soon after that Ben committed a crime and was put in the penitentiary. Before he was released she died. I knew that the child had been adopted by some wealthy people, but I never saw Lena again after that night. The girl who told us who you were was the child. She is his own daughter."
"Are you sure of that?" asked Leonie, endeavoring to control her agitation.
"Of course I am! He has told me so often."
"But is there no other proof than just his words?"
"I have seen letters from her, making the acknowledgment virtually."
"Have you them?"
"No, but I think I could find some of them easily enough!"