ter, the woman who took the children, and had Henry
change his name to Warner. The Hampletons and Warners were mighty
big-feelin' folks, and the old squire's match mortified 'em
dreadfully."

"Where are they now?" gasped Hagar, hoping there might be some
mistake.

"There you've got me!" answered Martin. "I haven't seen 'em this
dozen year; but the last I heard, Miss Warner and Rose was livin' in
Leominster, and Henry was in a big store in Wooster. But what the
plague is the matter?" he continued, alarmed at the expression of
Hagar's face, as well as at the strangeness of her manner.

Wringing her hands as if she would wrench her fingers from their
sockets, she clutched at her long white hair, and, rocking to and fro,
moaned, "Woe is me, and woe the day when I was born!"

From everyone save her grandmother Margaret had kept the knowledge of
her changed feelings towards Henry Warner; and looking upon a marriage
between the two as an event surely to be expected, old Hagar was
overwhelmed with grief and fear. Falling at last upon her knees, she
cried: "Had you cut my throat from ear to ear, old man, you could not
have hurt me more! Oh, that I had died years and years ago! But I must
live now--live!" she screamed, springing to her feet--"live to prevent
the wrong my own wickedness has caused!"

Perfectly astonished at what he saw and heard, the peddler attempted
to question her, but failing to obtain any satisfactory answers he
finally left, mentally pronouncing her "as crazy as a loon." This
opinion was confirmed by the people on whom he next called, for,
chancing to speak of Hagar, he was told that nothing which she did or
said was considered strange, as she had been called insane for years.
This satisfied Martin, who made no further mention of her, and
thus the scandal which his story might otherwise have produced was
prevented.

In the meantime on her face lay old Hagar, moaning bitterly. "My sin
has found me out; and just when I thought it never need be known! For
myself I do not care; but Maggie, Maggie--how can I tell her that she
is bone of my bone, blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh--and me old
Hagar Warren!"

It would be impossible to describe the scorn and intense loathing
concentrated in the tones of Hagar's voice as she uttered these last
words, "and me old Hagar Warren!" Had she indeed been the veriest
wretch on earth, she could not have hated herself more than she did in
that hour of her humiliatio