CHAPTER XLII.
AN AFFECTIONATE FAMILY.
A sudden silence has fallen upon the group, and as Leslie's clear, sadeyes rest upon first one face and then the other, Papa begins to fidgetnervously.
"Oh, yes," he sighs, "we heard about that."
And then Mamma comes nearer, saying in a cat-like, purring tone: "Thepoor little dear! And you can't find her?"
As she speaks, Franz Francoise shifts his position carelessly, placinghimself where he can note the expressions of the two old faces.
But Leslie's enforced calmness is fast deserting her.
"Woman!" she cries passionately, "drop your mask of hypocrisy! Let usunderstand each other. I believe that you were in my house on the nightof that wretched masquerade. I have reasons for so believing. Ah, Irecall many words that have fallen from your lips, now that it is toolate; words that condemn you. You believed that with Daisy removed, Iwould become my husband's sole heiress; and you knew that at best hislife would be short. The more the money in my possession, the more youcould extort from me. But I can thwart you here, and I will. You neverreckoned upon my throwing away my claim to wealth, for you were neverhuman; you never loved anything but money, or you would have pity onthat poor little child. Give me back little Daisy, and every dollar Ican claim shall become yours!"
Oh, the greed, the avarice, that shines from Mamma's eyes! But Papamakes her a sign, and she remains silent, while he says, with his bestimitation of gentleness:
"But, my child; but, Leschen, how can _we_ find the little girl?"
Leslie turns upon him a look of contempt, and then a swift spasm of fearcrosses her face.
"Oh," she cries, clasping her hands wildly, "surely, _surely_ you havenot killed her!"
And now Mamma has resumed her mask. "My child," she says, coming closeto Leslie, "you're excited. We don't know where to find that child. Whatcan _we_ do?"
Back to Leslie's face comes that look of set calm, and she sinks uponthe chair she had lately occupied.
"Do your worst!" she says between tightly clenched teeth. "You know thatI do not, that I never shall, believe you. You say you are my mother,"flashing two blazing eyes upon Mamma, "take care of your child, then.Make of me a rag-picker, if you like. Henceforth I am nothing, nobody,save the daughter of the Francoises!"
Again, for a moment, the faces that regard her present a study. And thistime it is Franz who is the first to speak, Coming forward somewhatunsteadily, he doffs his ragged old cap, and extends to her a hand notoverclean.
"Partner, shake!" he says in tones of marked admiration. "Ye're cleangrit! If ye're my sister, I'm proud of ye. If ye ain't, and ye 'pear tothink ye ain't, then it's my loss, an'," with a leer at the old pair,"yer gain. Anyhow, I'm yer second in this young-un business. Ye kin stayright here, ef ye want ter, and, by thunder, ef the old uns have got yerlittle gal, ye shall have her back agin--ye hear me! Ain't ye goin' tershake? I wish yer would. I'm a rough feller, Missy; I've allers been ahard case, and I've just got over a penitentiary stretch--ye'll hear o'that soon enough, ef ye stay here. The old un likes to remind me of itwhen she ain't amiable. Never mind that; maybe I ain't all bad. Anyway,I'm goin' to stand by ye, and don't ye feel oneasy."
Again he extends his hand, and Leslie looks at it, and then up into hisface.
"Oh, if I could trust you!" she murmurs. "If you would help me!"
"I _kin_;" says Franz promptly, "an' I _will_!"
Again she hesitates, looking upon the uncouth figure and the unwashedhand. Then she lifts her eyes to his face.
Two eyes are looking into her own, eagerly, intently, full of pityinganxiety.
She rises slowly, looks again into the eager eyes, and extends her hand.
"Gracious!" he exclaims, as he releases it, "how nervous yer are: mustbe awful tired."
"Tired, yes. I have walked all the way."
"An' say, no jokin' now, _have_ ye come ter live with us?"
"Partner, shake. Ye're clean grit!"--page 304.]
"I have," she replies firmly; "unless," turning a contemptuous glancetoward Mamma and Papa, "my _parents_ refuse me a shelter."
It is probable that these overtures from Franz would have been promptlyinterrupted, had not Papa and Mamma, seeing the necessity of exchanginga few words, improved this opportunity to understand each other, and asthey exchanged hasty whispers, any vagueness or hiatus in their speechwas fully supplied by meaning glances. And now quite up in her role,Mamma again advances.
"My child," she begins, in a dolorous voice, "when ye know us better,ye'll think better of yer poor old folks. As fer Franz here, he's beendrinkin' a little to-night, but he's a good-hearted boy; don't mindhim."
"No," interrupts Franz, with a maudlin chuckle; "don't mind _me_."
"It's a poor home yer come to, Leschen," continues Mamma, "and a poorbed I can give ye. But we want to be good to ye, dear, an' if ye'rereally goin' to stay with us, we'll try an' make ye as comfortable as wecan."
Leslie's head droops lower and lower; she pays no heed to the oldwoman's words.
"Poor child, she is tired out."
Saying this, Mamma takes the candle from the table, and goes from theroom quickly, thus leaving the three in darkness.
In another moment, the voice of Franz breaks out:
"Ain't there another glim somewhere?"
By the time Mamma returns, a feeble light is sputtering upon the table,and Franz is awkwardly trying to force upon Leslie some refreshmentsfrom the choice supply left from their late repast. But she refusesall, and wearily follows Mamma from the room.
"Git yer rest now," says Franz as she goes; "to-morrow we'll talk overthis young-un business."
But when the morrow comes, and for many days after, Leslie Warburton isoblivious to all things earthly.