"Listen, Hannah! My poor father was an apostate to his faith. My nation cast me off for being his daughter and for marrying a Christian. My parents are dead. My people are estranged. My husband alienated. But still I have one comfort and one hope! My comfort is--the--the simple existence of my husband! Yes, Hannah! alienated as he is, it is a comfort to me to know that he lives. If it were not for that, I myself should die! Oh, Hannah! it is common enough to talk of being willing to die for one we love! It is easy to die--much easier sometimes than to live: the last is often very hard! I will do more than die for my love: I will live for him! live through long years of dreary loneliness, taking my consolation in rearing his son, if you will give me the boy, and hoping in some distant future for his return, when I can present his boy to him, and say to him: "If you cannot love me for my own sake, try to love me a little for his!" Oh, Hannah! do not dash this last hope from me! give me the boy!"
Hannah bent her head in painful thought. To grant Lady Hurstmonceux"s prayer would be to break her vow, by virtually acknowledging the parentage of Ishmael and betraying Herman Brudenell--and without effecting any real good to the lady or the child, since in all human probability the child"s hours were already numbered.
"Hannah! will you speak to me?" pleaded Berenice.
"Yes, my lady. I was wishing to speak to you all along; but you would not give me a chance. If you had, my lady, you would not have been compelled to talk so much. I wished to ask you then what I wish to ask you now: What reason have you for thinking and speaking so ill of my sister as you do?"
"I do not blame her; I told you so."
"You cover her errors with a veil of charity; that is what you mean, my lady! She needs no such veil! My sister is as innocent as an angel. And you, my lady, are mistaken."
"Mistaken? as to--to--Oh, Hannah! how am I mistaken?" asked the countess, with sudden eagerness, perhaps with sudden hope.
"If you will compose yourself, my lady, and come and sit down, I will tell you the truth, as I have told it to everybody."
Lady Hurstmonceux went and dropped into her chair, and gazed at Hannah with breathless interest.
Hannah drew another forward and sat down opposite to the countess.
"Now then," said Berenice eagerly.
"My lady, what I have to tell is soon said. My sister was buried in her wedding-ring. Her son was born in wedlock."
The Countess of Hurstmonceux started to her feet, clasped her hands and gazed into Hannah"s very soul! The light of an infinite joy irradiated her face.
"Is this true?" she exclaimed.
"It is true."
"Then I have been mistaken! Oh, how widely mistaken! Thank Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven!"
And the Countess of Hurstmonceux sank back in her chair, covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears.
Hannah felt very uncomfortable; her conscience reproached her; she was self-implicated in a deception; and this to one of her integrity of character was very painful. Literally, she had spoken the truth; but the countess had drawn false inferences and deceived herself; and she could not undeceive her without breaking her oath to Nora and betraying Herman Brudenell.
Then she pitied that beautiful, pale woman who was weeping so violently.
And she arose and poured out the last of poor Nora"s bottle of wine and brought it to her, saying:
"Drink this, my lady, and try and compose yourself."
Berenice drank the wine and thanked the woman, and then said:
"I was very wrong to take up such fancies as I did; but then, you do not know how strong the circ.u.mstances were that led me to such fancies. I am glad and sorry and ashamed, all at once, Hannah! Glad to find my own and my mother-in-law"s suspicions all unfounded; sorry that I ever entertained them against my dear husband; and ashamed--oh, how much ashamed--that I ever betrayed them to anyone."
"You were seeking to do him a service, my lady, when you did so," said Hannah remorsefully and compa.s.sionately.
"Yes, indeed I was! And then I was not quite myself! Oh, I have suffered so much in my short life, Hannah! And I met such a cruel disappointment on my arrival here! But there! I am talking too much again! Hannah, I entreat you to forget all that I have said to you. And if you cannot forget it, I implore you most earnestly never to repeat it to anyone."
"I will not indeed, madam."
The Countess of Hurstmonceux arose and walked to the bed, turned down the shawl that covered the sleeping child, and gazed pitifully upon him.
Hannah did not now seek to prevent her.
"Oh, poor little fellow, how feeble he looks! Hannah, it seems such a pity that all the plans I formed for his future welfare should be lost because he is not what I supposed him to be; it seems hard that the revelation which has made me happy should make him unfortunate; or, rather, that it should prevent his good fortune! And it shall not do so entirely. It is true, I cannot now adopt him,--the child of a stranger,--and take him home and rear him as my own, as I should have done had he been what I fancied him to be. Because it might not be right, you know, and my husband might not approve it. And, oh, Hannah, I have grown so timid lately that I dread, I dread more than you can imagine, to do anything that he might not like. Not that he is a domestic tyrant either. You have lived on his estate long enough to know that Herman Brudenell is all that is good and kind. But then you see I am all wrong--and always was so. Everything I do is ill done--and always so. It is all my own fault, and I must try to amend it, if ever I am to hope for happiness. So I must not do anything unless I am sure that it will not displease him, therefore I must not take this child of a stranger home, and rear him as my own. But I will do all that I can for him here. At present his little wants are all physical. Take this purse, dear woman, and make him as comfortable as you can. I think he ought to have medical attendance; procure it for him; get everything he needs; and when the purse is empty bring it to me to be replenished. So much for the present. If he lives I will pay for his schooling, and see that he is apprenticed to some good master to learn a trade."
And with these words the countess held out a well-filled purse to Hannah.
With a deep blush Hannah shook her head and put the offered bounty back, saying:
"No, my lady, no. Nora"s child must not become the object of your charity. It will not do. My nephew"s wants are few, and will not be felt long; I can supply them all while he lives, I thank you all the same, madam."
Berenice looked seriously disappointed. Again she pressed her bounty upon Hannah, saying:
"I do not really think you are right to refuse a.s.sistance that is proffered to this poor child."
But Hannah was firm as she replied:
"I know that I am right, madam. And so long as I am able and willing to supply all his wants myself, and so long as I do supply them, I do him no injury in refusing for him the help of others."
"But do you have to supply all his wants? I suppose that his father must be a poor man, but is he so poor as not to be able to render you some a.s.sistance?"
Hannah paused a moment in thought before answering this question, then she said:
"His father is dead, my lady." (Dead to him was her mental reservation.)
"Poor orphan," sighed the countess, with the tears springing to her eyes; "and you will not let me do anything for him?"
"I prefer to take care of him myself, madam, for the short time that he will need care," replied Hannah.
"Well, then," sighed the lady, as she restored her purse to her pocket, "remember this--if from any circ.u.mstances whatever you should change your mind, and be willing to accept my protection for this child, come to me frankly, and you will find that I have not changed my mind. I shall always be glad to do anything in my power for this poor babe."
"I thank you, my lady; I thank you very much," said Hannah, without committing herself to any promise.
What instinct was it that impelled the countess to stoop and kiss the brow of the sleeping babe, and then to catch him up and press him fondly to her heart? Who can tell?
The action awoke the infant, who opened his large blue eyes to the gaze of the lady.
"Hannah, you need not think this boy is going to die. He is only a skeleton; but in his strong, bright eyes there is no sign of death--but certainty of life! Take the word of one who has the blood of a Hebrew prophetess in her veins for that!" said Berenice, with solemnity.
"It will be as the Lord wills, my lady," Hannah reverently replied.
The countess laid the infant back upon the bed and then drew her sable cloak around her shoulders, shook hands with Hannah, and departed.
Hannah Worth stood looking after the lady for some little s.p.a.ce of time.
Hannah was an accurate reader of character, and she had seen at the first glance that this pale, sad, but most beautiful woman could not be the bad, artful, deceitful creature that her husband had been led to believe and to represent her. And she wondered what mistake it could possibly have been that had estranged Herman Brudenell from his lovely wife and left his heart vacant for the reception of another and a most fatal pa.s.sion.
"Whatever it may have been, I have nothing to do with it. I pity the gentle lady, but I cannot accept her bounty for Nora"s child," said Hannah, dismissing the subject from her thoughts and returning to her work.