To—to find myself. . ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. "Mother!" she echoed,—"mother! why do you call me by that name?" "Because you are my mother. ” Ann Veronica was about to reply, when he went on, with a still more deadly quiet: “I am not here to bandy words with you. Little Anna screamed and thrashed as she was torn from Lucy’s skirts.
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