Yet she had a twinge of pity for the old lady. Even the
wild boar has its affections and moments of gentleness.
A week ago Lisa could have trampled the life out of this
woman who had slandered her dead mother, with the fury of
any wild beast.
For she was Pauline Felix's daughter. It was her
mother's name that Mrs. Waldeaux had said could not be
spoken by any decent woman. Lisa had been but a child,
but she had held her mother's head close to her stout
little heart as she lay dying--that awful mysterious
death of which the young man had tried to make a telling
story. The girl crossed herself now and closed her tired
eyes as she thought of it. She had been a wicked child
and a wicked woman, but she knew certainly that the
Virgin and her Son had come near to her that day, and had
helped her.

George, who was poring fondly on her face, exclaimed:
"Your eyes are wet. You are in trouble!"

"I was thinking of my mother," she said gently, holding
out her hand to him.

He took it and said presently, "Will you not talk to me
about her, Lisa? You have not told me any thing of
your people, my darling. Nor of yourself. Why, I don't
even know whether you are French or German."

"Oh, you shall hear the whole story when we are married,"