"It was because I loved you a thousand times better than myself--better
than my revenge. Forgive me, Mollie--forgive me!"
"You are my mother, and you are dying," Mollie said, solemnly, bending
down and kissing her. "I forgive you everything. But I will never set
foot under Carl Walraven's roof again."
CHAPTER XXVII.
DEAD AND BURIED.
The twilight was falling without--the last silvery radiance of the dying
day streamed through the dirty, broken attic window, and lighted, as
with a pale glory, Mollie's drooping head and earnest, saddened face.
Miriam had fallen back upon the pillow, exhausted, panting, laboring for
breath.
There was a long pause; then Mollie lifted her bowed head and drew
closer to the dying woman.
"Finish your story," she said, softly, sadly.
"It is finished," Miriam answered, in a voice, scarcely above a whisper.
"You know the rest. I went to you, as you remember, the day after you
landed, and proved to you that I was your aunt--a falsehood, Mollie,
which my love and my pride begot.
"Some dim recollection of me and your childhood's days yet lingered in
your breast--you believed me.
Pages:
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392