“That brave fellow in buckskin—­he’ll save us,” said Allie.

“Child, I feel I’ll never see home again,” finally whispered Mrs. Durade.

“Mother!”

“Allie, I must tell you—­I must!” cried Mrs. Durade, very low and fiercely.  She clung to her daughter.

“Tell me what?” whispered Allie.

“The truth—­the truth!  Oh, I’ve deceived you all your life!”

“Deceived me!  Oh, mother!  Then tell me—­now.”

“Child—­you’ll forgive me—­and never—­hate me?” cried the mother, brokenly.

“Mother, how can you talk so!  I love you.”  And Allie clasped the shaking form closer.  Then followed a silence during which Mrs. Durade recovered her composure.

“Allie, I ran off with Durade before you were born,” began the mother, swiftly, as if she must hurry out her secret.  “Durade is not your father....  Your name is Lee.  Your father is Allison Lee.  I’ve heard he’s a rich man now....  Oh, I want to get back—­to give you to him—­to beg his forgiveness....  We were married in New Orleans in 1847.  My father made me marry him.  I never loved Allison Lee.  He was not a kind man—­not the sort I admired....  I met Durade.  He was a Spaniard—­a blue-blooded adventurer.  I ran off with him.  We joined the gold-seekers traveling to California.  You were born out there in 1850....  It has been a hard life.  But I taught you—­I did all I could for you.  I kept my secret from you—­and his! ...  Lately I could endure it no longer.  I’ve run off from Durade.”

“Oh, mother, I knew we were running off from him!” cried Allie, breathlessly.  “And I know he will follow us.”

“Indeed, I fear he will,” replied the mother.  “But Lord spare me his revenge!”

“Mother!  Oh, it is terrible! ...  He is not my father.  I never loved him.  I couldn’t....  But, mother, you must have loved him!”

“Child, I was Durade’s slave,” she replied, sadly.

“Then why did you run away?  He was kind—­good to us.”

“Allie, listen.  Durade was a gambler—­a man crazy to stake all on the fall of a card.  He did not love gold.  But he loved games of chance.  It was a terrible passion with him.  Once he meant to gamble my honor away.  But that other gambler was too much of a man.  There are gamblers who are men! ...  I think I began to hate Durade from that time....  He was a dishonest gambler.  He made me share in his guilt.  My face lured miners to his dens....  My face—­for I was beautiful once! ...  Oh, I sunk so low!  But he forced me....  Thank God I left him—­before it was too late—­too late for you.”

“Mother, he will follow us!” cried Allie.

“But he shall never have you.  I’ll kill him before I let him get you,” replied the mother.

“He’d never harm me, mother, whatever he is,” murmured Allie.

“Child, he would use you exactly as he used me.  He wanted me to let him have you—­already.  He wanted to train you—­he said you’d be beautiful some day.”