cks, from business friends
and brokers, not less than sixty or seventy thousand dollars. It was
estimated, on a thorough examination of his business, that he had
gone off with at least a hundred thousand dollars. To this amount Mrs.
Dinneford had contributed from her private fortune the sum of twenty
thousand dollars. Not until she had furnished him with that large amount
would he consent to leave the city. He magnified her danger, and so
overcame her with terrors that she yielded to his exorbitant demand.

On the day a public newspaper announcement of Freeling's rascality was
made, Mrs. Dinneford went to bed sick of a nervous fever, and was for a
short period out of her mind.

Neither Mr. Dinneford nor Edith had failed to notice a change in Mrs.
Dinneford. She was not able to hide her troubled feelings. Edith was
watching her far more closely than she imagined; and now that she was
temporarily out of her mind, she did not let a word or look escape
her. The first aspect of her temporary aberration was that of fear and
deprecation. She was pursued by some one who filled her with terror,
and she would lift her hands to keep him off, or hide her head in abject
alarm. Then she would beg him to keep away. Once she said,

"It's no use; I can't do anything more. You're a vampire!"

"Who is a vampire?" asked Edith, hoping that her mother would repeat
some name.

But the question seemed to put her on her guard. The expression of fear
went out of her face, and she looked at her daughter curiously.

Edith did not repeat the question. In a little while the mother's
wandering thoughts began to find words again, and she went on talking
in broken sentences out of which little could be gleaned. At length she
said, turning to Edith and speaking with the directness of one in her
right mind,

"I told you her name was Gray, didn't I? Gray, not Bray."

It was only by a quick and strong effort that Edith could steady her
voice as she replied:

"Yes; you said it was Gray."

"Gray, not Bray. You thought it was Bray."

"But it's Gray," said Edith, falling in with her mother's humor. Then
she added, still trying to keep her voice even,

"She was my nurse when baby was born."

"Yes; she was the nurse, but she didn't--"

Checking herself, Mrs. Dinneford rose on one arm and looked at Edith in
a frightened way, then said, hurriedly,

"Oh, it's dead, it's dead! You know that; and the woman's dead, too."

Edith sat motionless and s