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 was stripping her soul before these gaping people, not to punish Lucas Cullen, but to acknowledge him, her son. Barney heard their whispers; they seemed to have forgotten that, at the beginning, she had spoken of her son,—she whom they had known only as childless. But now they remembered; and they reminded one another.

"Lucas Cullen learned of it, but gave out that his guest had gone on a hunting trip," she pressed on. "He followed and finally found us. His money, of course, was an influence; I had nothing; De Chenal owed two million francs. He had forgotten that. Also Lucas Cullen showed that I had lied to him about my father; it was plain that the Mormon had been a murderer. Had not Lucas Cullen, at great risk to himself, fought for a fair trial? How could De Chenal go back to his creditors with a dowerless bride and to his family with the daughter of a convict? Lucas Cullen made his escape easy. I was under age; legal necessities had been ignored. Moreover, was I not the daughter of Drane, the Mormon murderer? He married De Chenal to his daughter, gave him money and packed him off. It was easier than before to make me an outcast. The next spring, my son was born."

"Mother!" Barney cried, forbidding her, as he stepped toward her under the light. From the other side of the room, where she had been, women called her name. But she did not hear them.

"This is my son!" she cried, her hands clasping Barney's. "My son lost to me that summer of his birth because I was made an outcast but now—now restored to me!"

So her son caught her in his arms, as her strength collapsed; with the aid of some woman, unknown to him