the river. Had she but known, how soon her look of
indifference would have vanished.

"So you have no knowledge, then, as to your--your daughter's
whereabouts?" It was Grimsby speaking, and it aroused her from her
reverie.

"None at all. I do not even know the name of the woman who got my
baby."

"She was very wealthy, I suppose?"

"I believe so, but----" She suddenly stopped, and an expression of
hope leaped into her eyes. "Tell me, do you know where she is? Your
wife must know, anyway."

She waited almost breathlessly for a reply, but when Grimsby smiled and
shook his head, the light of hope faded from her eyes.

"You don't know?" she asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

"I didn't say that, madame. Maybe I know and maybe I don't. But what
good would it do if I should tell where she is? You could not get her
back again, no matter how hard you might try. And, besides, she
wouldn't want to come. She has been brought up to a life of luxury of
which you know nothing. She moves in high social circles, and would be
ashamed of you. Suppose she should find out that you are her mother,
what would she think if she learned how you sold her for money when she
was a helpless baby? Have you thought of that?"

"Stop, stop! For God's sake don't say any more!" the unhappy woman
pleaded. "It is all too true, but I can hardly bear it. I know she
would scorn me for what I did. But it would be a comfort if I could
look upon her, see her face, and know that she is my child. If I could
but feast my eyes upon her even for a few minutes, it would mean
everything to me."

"No, madame, you are mistaken. If you saw her once it would make you
more dissatisfied than ever. It would only add to your agony of soul,
of which you speak."

"So you won't tell me, Gabriel?"

"No, I must not."

"Then why have you come here to-day to torment me? Why have you
mentioned my child to me? I believe you know where she is, and yet you
will not tell me. What is the meaning of all this?"

"Ah, now you are coming to the point," and Grimsby smilingly rubbed his
hands together in satisfaction. "I have a definite purpose in coming
to see you to-day. I felt that I could not delay any longer. It is a
mere matter of business, nothing more."

"Has it anything to do with the mine, Gabriel?"

"Oh, not at all. It is far more important to you than that. It has to
do with something that happened twenty years ago. There, now