e said:

"Do not let her approach you, Berenice. She is but a low creature; not
fit to speak to one of the decent negroes even; and besides she is
wringing wet and will give you a cold."

"Poor thing! she will certainly take one herself, mamma; she looks too
miserable to live! If you please, I would rather talk with her! Come
here, my poor, poor girl! what is it that troubles you so? Tell me! Can
I help you? I will, cheerfully, if I can." And the equally "poor" lady,
poor in happiness as Nora herself, put her hand in her pocket and drew
forth an elegant portmonnaie of jet.

"Put up your purse, lady! It is not help that I want--save from God! I
want but a true answer to one single question, if you will give it to
me."

"Certainly, I will, my poor creature; but stand nearer the fire; it will
dry your clothes while we talk."

"Thank you, madam, I do not need to."

"Well, then, ask me the question that you wish to have answered. Don't
be afraid, I give you leave, you know," said the lady kindly.

Nora hesitated, shivered, and gasped; but could not then ask the
question that was to confirm her fate; it was worse than throwing the
dice upon which a whole fortune was staked; it was like giving the
signal for the ax to fall upon her own neck. At last, however, it came,
in low, fearful, but distinct words:

"Madam, are you the wife of Mr. Herman Brudenell?"

"Nora Worth, how dare you? Leave the room and the house this instant,
before I send for a constable and have you taken away?" exclaimed Mrs.
Brudenell, violently pulling at the bell-cord.

"Mamma, she is insane, poor thing! do not be hard on her," said Lady
Hurstmonceux gently; and then turning to poor Nora she answered, in the
manner of one humoring a maniac:

"Yes, my poor girl, I am the wife of Mr. Herman Brudenell. Can I do
anything for you?"

"Nothing, madam," was the answer that came sad, sweet, and low as the
wail of an Aeolian harp swept by the south wind.

The stranger lady's eyes were bent with deep pity upon her; but before
she could speak again Mrs. Brudenell broke into the discourse by
exclaiming:

"Do not speak to her, Berenice! I warned you not to let her speak to
you, but you would not take my advice, and now you have been insulted."

"But, mamma, she is insane, poor thing; some great misery has turned her
brain; I am very sorry for her," said the kind-hearted stranger.

"I tell you she is not! She is as sane as you are! Look at her! Not i