The invalid lay with her face turned away from the door. But by the
movement of the delicate hand on the counterpane, Joy knew that her
mother was awake.
"Mamma, I have brought a lady, a friend of Dr Stuart's, to see you,"
Joy said gently. The invalid turned her head upon the pillow, and
the Baroness looked upon the face of--Berene Dumont.
"Berene!"
"Madam!"
The two spoke simultaneously, and the invalid had started upright in
bed.
"Mamma, what is the matter? Oh, please lie down, or you will bring
on another haemorrhage," cried the startled girl; but her mother
lifted her hand.
"Joy," she said in a firm, clear voice, "this lady is an old
acquaintance of mine. Please go out, dear, and shut the door. I
wish to see her alone."
Joy passed out with drooping head and a sinking heart. As the door
closed behind her the Baroness spoke.
"So that is Preston Cheney's daughter," she said. "I always had my
suspicions of the cause which led you to leave my house so suddenly.
Does the girl know who her father is? And does Senator Cheney know
of her existence, may I ask?"
A crimson flush suffused the invalid's face. Then a flame of fire
shot into the dark eyes, and a small red spot only glowed on either
pale cheek.
"I do not know by what right you ask these questions, Baroness
Brown," she answered slowly; and her listener cringed under the old
appellation which recalled the miserable days when she had kept a
lodging-house--days she had almost forgotten during the last decade
of life.
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