Berenice.

"No, my lady, but you are! Oh, do try to compose your mind, or you may
do yourself a mischief!" pleaded Hannah.

Berenice suddenly ceased to struggle, and became perfectly quiet. Hannah
was resolved not to be deceived, and held her firmly as ever.

"Hannah," said the countess, "I begin to see how it is that you think me
mad. You, a Christian maid, and I, a Jewish matron, do not understand
each other. We think, and look, and speak from different points of view.
You think I mean to say that the child upon the bed is the son of my own
bosom!"

"You said so, my lady."

"No, I said he was my son--I meant my son by marriage and by adoption."

"I do not understand you, madam."

"Well, I fear you don't. I will try to explain. He is"--the lady's voice
faltered and broke down--"he is my husband's son, and so, his mother
being dead, he becomes mine," breathed Berenice, in a faint voice.

"Madam!" exclaimed Hannah, drawing back and reddening to the very edge
of her hair.

"He is the son of Herman Brudenell, and so--"

"My lady! how dare you say such a thing as that?" fiercely interrupted
Hannah.

"Because, oh, Heaven! it is true," moaned Berenice; "it is true, Hannah!
Would to the Lord it were not!"

"Lady Hurstmonceux--"

"Stop! listen to me first, Hannah! I do not blame your poor sister.
Heaven knows I pitied her very much, and did all I could to protect her
the night she came to Brudenell Hall."

"I know you did, madam," said Hannah, her heart softening at the
recollection of what she had heard of the countess' share in the scene
between Nora and Mrs. Brudenell.

"She knew nothing of me when she met my husband, and she could not help
loving him any more than I could--any more than I could," she repeated
lowly to herself; "and so, though it wrings my heart to think of it, I
cannot blame her, Hannah--"

"My lady, you have no right to blame her," interrupted Nora's sister.

"I know it," meekly replied the wronged wife.

"You have no right to blame her, because she was perfectly blameless in
the sight of Heaven."

Berenice looked up in surprise, sighed and continued:

"However that may be, Hannah, I am not her judge, and do not presume to
arraign her. May she rest in peace! But her child! Herman's child! my
child! It is of him I wish to speak! Oh, Hannah, give him to me! I want
him so much! I long for him so intensely! My heart warms to him so
ardently! He will be such a comfort, such a blessing,