seventeenth birthday, as you know."

"Is this all?"

"All at present. Are you prepared to obey, or shall I--"

"There!" interrupted Mr. Walraven, "that will do. There is no need of
threats, Miriam--I am very willing to obey you in this. If I had known
Mary Dane--why the deuce did you give her that name?--was on this
continent, I would have hunted her up of my own accord. I would, upon
my honor!"

"Swear by something you possess," the woman said, with a sneer; "honor
you never had since I first knew you."

"Come, come, Miriam," said Mr. Walraven, uneasily, "don't be
cantankerous. Let by-gones be by-gones. I'm sorry for the past--I am
indeed, and am willing to do well for the future. Sit down and be
sociable, and tell me all about it. How came you to let the little
one go on the stage first?"

Miriam spurned away the proffered chair.

"I spurn it as I would your dead body if it lay before me, Carl
Walraven! Sit down with you? Never, if my life depended on it! The child
became an actress because I could keep her no longer--I couldn't keep
myself--and because she had the voice and face of an angel--poor little
wretch! The manager of a band of strolling players, passing through our
village, heard her baby voice singing some baby song, and pounced upon
her on the instant. We struck a bargain, and I sold her, Mr.