"
She started impetuously up, but Miriam stretched forth her hand to
detain her, her fierce eyes flaming up.
"Not half so dreadful, Mollie Dane, as the eating the bread or drinking
the cup of Carl Walraven! No; I told him before, and I tell you now, I
would die in a kennel, like a stray dog, before I would accept help from
him."
"Miriam!"
Miriam made an impatient gesture.
"Don't let us talk about me. Let us talk about yourself. It is my first
chance since you came here. You are well and happy, are you not? You
look both."
"I am well and I am happy; that is, as happy as I can be, shrouded in
mystery. Miriam, I have been thinking about myself. I have learned to
think, of late, and I would give a year of my life to know who I am."
"What do you want to know?" Miriam asked, gloomily.
"Who I am; what my name may be; who were my parents--everything that I
ought to know."
"Why do you speak to me about it?"
"Because you know, I am certain; because you can tell me, if you will.
Tell me, Miriam--tell me!"
She leaned forward, her ringed hands clasped, her blue eyes lighted and
eager, her pretty face aglow.
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