the mine. As he approached the house he
saw the servant who for several weeks had been staying there, and who
now came out to meet him, telling him that since the night before
Hagar had been raving crazy, talking continually of Maggie, who, she
said, had gone where none would ever find her.

In some anxiety Mr. Carrollton pressed on, until the cottage door was
reached, where for a moment he stood gazing silently upon the poor
woman before him. Upon the bed, her white hair falling over her round,
bent shoulders, and her large eyes shining with delirious light, old
Hagar sat, waving back and forth, and talking of Margaret, of Hester,
and "the little foolish child," who, with a sneer upon her lip, she
said, "was a fair specimen of the Conway race."

"Hagar," said Mr. Carrollton; and at the sound of that voice Hagar
turned toward him her flashing eyes, then with a scream buried her
head in the bedclothes, saying: "Go away, Arthur Carrollton! Why are
you here? Don't you know who I am? Don't you know what Margaret is,
and don't you know how proud you are?"

"Hagar," he said again, subduing, by a strong effort, the repugnance
he felt at questioning her, "I know all, except where Margaret has
gone, and if on this point you can give me any information, I shall
receive it most thankfully."

"Gone!" shrieked Hagar, starting up in bed; "then she has gone. The
play is played out, the performance is ended--and I have sinned for
nothing!"

"Hagar, will you tell me where Maggie is? I wish to follow her," said
Mr. Carrollton; and Hagar answered: "Maggie, Maggie--he said that
lovingly enough, but there's a catch somewhere. He does not wish to
follow her for any good--and though I know where she has gone I'll
surely never tell. I kept one secret nineteen years. I can keep
another as long"; and, folding her arms upon her chest, she commenced
singing, "I know full well, but I'll never tell."

Biting his lips with vexation, Mr. Carrollton tried first by
persuasion, then by flattery, and lastly by threats, to obtain from
her the desired information, but in vain. Her only answer was, "I know
full well, but I'll never tell," save once, when tossing towards him
her long white hair, she shrieked: "Don't you see a resemblance--only
hers is black--and so was mine nineteen years ago--and so was Hester's
too--glossy and black as the raven's wing. The child is like the
mother--the mother was like the grandmother, and the grandmother is
like--