crept along, "is it true about the young
foreign lady that arrived here last night and turned out to be the wife
of Mr. Herman?"

"All as true as gospel, honey," replied the old man, who, in his love
of gossip, immediately related to Hannah all the particulars of the
arrival of Lady Hurstmonceux and the flight of Herman Brudenell. "Seems
like he run away at the sight of his wife, honey; and 'pears like she
thinks so too, 'cause she's taken of it sorely to heart, scarce' holdin'
up her head since. And it is a pity for her, too, poor young thing; for
she's a sweet perty young cre'tur', and took Miss Nora's part like an
angel when de old madam was a-callin' of her names, and orderin' of her
out'n de house."

"Calling her names! ordering her out of the house! Did Mrs. Brudenell
dare to treat Nora Worth so?" cried Hannah indignantly.

"Well, honey, she did rayther, that's a fact. Law, honey, you know
yourself how ha'sh ladies is to poor young gals as has done wrong. A
hawk down on a chicken aint nuffin to 'em!"

"But my sister has done no wrong; Nora Worth is as innocent as an angel,
as honorable as an empress. I can prove it, and I will prove it, let the
consequences to the Brudenells be what they may! Called her ill names,
did she? Very well! whether my poor wronged child lives or dies this
bitter night, I will clear her character to-morrow, let who will be
blackened instead of her! Ordered her out of the house, did she? All
right! we will soon see how long the heir himself will be permitted to
stop there! There's law in the land, for rich as well as poor, I reckon!
Threatened her with a constable, did she? Just so! I wonder how she will
feel when her own son is dragged off to prison! That will take her
down--"

Hannah's words were suddenly cut short, for Jovial, who was going on
before her, fell sprawling over some object that lay directly across the
path, and the lantern rolled down the hill.

"What is the matter, Jovial?" she inquired.

"Honey, I done fell--fell over somefin' or oder; it is--law, yes--"

"What, Jovial?"

"It's a 'oman, honey; feels like Miss Nora."

In an instant Hannah was down on her knees beside the fallen figure,
clearing away the snow that covered it.

"It is Nora," she said, trying to lift the insensible body; but it was a
cold, damp, heavy weight, deeply bedded in the snow, and resisted all
her efforts.

"Oh, Jovial, I am afraid she is dead! and I cannot get her up! You come
and