Mrs.Denover removed her daughter's clothing and examined the wound.

It was deep and dangerous looking, but not necessarily fatal--she knew that, and she had had considerable experience during her rough life with John Thorndyke.

She stanched the flow of blood, bathed and dressed the wound, and finally the dark eyes opened and looked vaguely in her face.
"Who are you?
Where am I ?" very feebly.
"I am your nurse," she said, tremulously, "and you are with friends who love you." "Ah! I remember." A look of intense anguish crossed her face.

"You are my mother!" "Your most wretched mother! Oh, my darling, I am not worthy to look in your face!" "You are all that is left to me now--ah, Heaven pity me!--since he thinks me guilty.

I remember all.