t rid of the
sight of me. I have a little home where he can't avoid seeing me
sometimes. I believe, if I kept always appearing before him, he would
go raving mad, he hates me to that extent."

"Um-m! Is that so?"

"Yes, indeed. Why, lady, if I were without house or home, and you, out
of the kindness of your heart, were to take me into your employment as
the very humblest of your servants, I believe he would kill us both."

"You think he would?"

Cora actually seemed to encourage the old woman in her garrulity.

"Oh, I know it. It's not much in the way of charity, or kindness, you
will be able to do in _this_ house. If he don't imprison you in one of
these old closed-up musty rooms, you will be lucky. He is very
dangerous. Sometimes I used to think he must be insane."

Cora started. "Well, Hagar," she said, sweetly, "it's very good of you
to take so much interest in me. He is very cross sometimes, but,
perhaps, it won't be so bad as you fear."

"I hope it won't," rising to go and shaking her head dubiously; "but I
am afraid for you."

"Well," laughing, "I'll try and not let him lock me up, at any rate.
Now, is there anything I can do for you?"

[Illustration: If ever you want to make him feel what it is to make
others suffer, Hagar will help you.--page 238.]

"Oh, no, lady. You looked so pretty, and so good, that I wanted to
warn you; that is all. I should be glad if I could serve you, too, but
I could never serve him. I don't want for anything, dear lady. Now the
old woman will go."

"I won't forget you, Hagar, if I ever need a friend."

Hagar turned toward her. "If you ever want to make him feel what it is
to make others suffer, Hagar will help you."

There was a vindictive light in the old woman's eyes, and she hobbled
out of the room, looking as if she meant all she had said.

Cora sat, for a time, pondering over the interview, and trying to
trace out some motive for insincerity on the old woman's part. But she
could see none. She resolved to investigate a little, and all that
evening was the most attentive and agreeable of wives. Abundant and
versatile was her conversation. Deftly she led the talk up to the
proper point, and then said, carelessly:

"Driving through the village, to-day, I passed that queer old
woman--Hagar, do they call her? She glared at me, oh! so savagely."

"She is an old hag!" Mr Arthur answered, with unnecessary fierceness.
"I don't see what Satan has been about, all these y