But other voices besides those of the English-looking stranger clamored loudly for reasons, so the old sexton, with a sulky glance at his interlocutor, proceeded to explain to his friends and neighbors, giving in substance the story with which we are already familiar.

When he had finished his voluble story he drew a long breath, and added:

"Lord bless you, I knowed 'em all—poor Daisy, and Charley, and Maria, and all, for I've been sexton at Springville nigh on to forty year. So, as I was a-saying, after Maria confessed that cheat on her death-bed, Mrs. Fielding felt like she couldn't see no rest till she took her child outer the coffin with poor Daisy Forrest. So she get the permit, and just teased and teased, and coaxed and begged, until I had to give in and consent."

"And you were finely imposed on by the story of a mad woman!" exclaimed a sneering voice, and three strangers came quickly upon the scene. The one who had spoken was a medical-looking man with a sinister countenance, and he continued: "Why, my good friend, this is a mad woman who recently escaped from my asylum. I have been seeking her everywhere, and I count myself lucky in finding her at last, for she is very violent at times, and quite capable of murder."

Incredulous voices rose on the air, and Flower rose, pale and trembling, saying, in her low, clear tones:

"I do not know this gentleman, but it is quite true that the lady is mad. I know her well. She was sent to an insane asylum weeks ago."

"Then the story she has told is untrue, a figment of her disordered imagination," said the English-looking stranger, who had offended the sexton.

"No, it is the truth," Flower answered, taming her earnest gaze on his face, and adding: "It was the knowledge of that truth that turned her dark hair white in one night, and afterward drove her to madness. And I am the helpless girl she reared as her own—I am Daisy Forrest's daughter!"

No one thought of doubting her assertion. There she stood, looking at them with the face of her whose ashes slept beneath their feet, and awing all denial into silence.

Just then Mrs. Fielding stirred, and opened her dark eyes with a dazed look. Flower bent over her with infinite pity in her sad blue eyes.

"Mamma!" she murmured, using the old, familiar name forgetfully.

"Flower!" exclaimed Mrs. Fielding, wildly, and there was a note of gladness in her voice that was plainly recognized by all. For the moment the poor woman had forgotten all but the love she had borne the girl who had been her daughter so long. Her wild expression softened into sweetness, and murmuring, "My darling!" she held out her arms to the girl, who gently assisted her to rise.

Then Mrs. Fielding saw the half-filled grave yawning at her feet, saw the curious faces around her, and fell memory returned.

She glared wildly at Flower's gentle, pitying face, and struck out fiercely with both hands to push her away.

"Ah, I forgot!" she screamed, angrily. "You do not belong to me—you are hers! Go—go, before I strike you! Go—"

But further speech was arrested by the doctor, whom she had not before observed, but who now came in front of her, and said, sharply:

"Come, Mrs. Fielding, enough of this! You must come home now with me and these keepers who came along with me to help carry you back."

A scream of horror broke from the poor woman's lips; but they proceeded to pinion her hands firmly, regardless of the wild entreaties for freedom that she eagerly poured forth.

"Oh, be gentle; do not hurt her, if you must take her away!" Flower exclaimed, pleadingly; and at that Mrs. Fielding looked at her almost tenderly and wailed out:

"Oh, Flower, do not let them take me away! I am not mad—I am not mad! Oh, save me—you are my only friend!"

Smothering her wild cries with a handkerchief, the three men bore her rapidly away.