ions I had drawn from the words
and manner of the old witch.

"This is the fatal consequence of my rash obstinacy with poor Harry
Blount," she continued. "You have heard me speak of the accident
before. He was carried in a dying state into the cottage of this
Mrs. Jool and her daughter. In my despair, I repeated several times:
'It is my fault; I have killed him, I have killed him.' The daughter
knelt beside Blount in the wildest agony; and Harry could just murmur,
'My wife, my poor wife; have pity on her, Miss Francis!' I did not
know until this moment that they were secretly married. I promised
solemnly I would care for her, and even if I had made no promise I
should still have done all I have done for her.

"The mother always was, and is, a bad woman; she had, as it were,
thrown her daughter into the arms of Blount, whom she considered a
good match. After the funeral, she made such good use of my words
uttered in despair, and spread such nefarious reports in the village,
that I was accused in all earnest of being his murderer. In fact,
we were obliged to consult the magistrate, a friend of ours, as
to the measures we ought to take to contradict and put a stop to
such slanderous charges. This, of course, did not relieve me of my
obligations towards the daughter, in whom, very soon after the birth of
her child, symptoms of insanity manifested themselves. The child had to
be taken from her, and it was given in care to a sister of hers in the
neighbouring village, who had just lost her youngest born. Perhaps you
would imagine she took it out of sisterly charity; but no, she insisted
upon my paying her monthly wages as I should have to do any other wet
nurse. Besides, I had to do what I could for the poor mother. It was
most fortunate for me that on the occasion of my visit to Utrecht
I met with Aunt Roselaer, otherwise I could not have afforded the
expense the mother has cost under the care of Dr. D. Mrs. Jool,
not caring to live alone, went to the house of her married daughter
under the pretext of watching over the little one; but the fact is,
she would there have a better opportunity of extorting money from me,
and this she does under all kinds of pretences. The child has long
been weaned, and ought not to be left in their charge. I am always
threatening to take it away from them, but I have not yet done so;
for, to confess a truth, I have recoiled from the rumours and false
charges such a change would give rise to. T