or I could not
repeat the story twice."

"What! you look pale. Nothing has happened to frighten you I hope,"
exclaimed he, leading her back to Ona's side, who stirred a little, and
presently deigned to take an upright position.

"I do not know if it is fear or horror," cried Paula, shuddering; "I
have seen a fearful woman--But first I ought to tell you that I took a
ride with Miss Stuyvesant in the Park this morning--"

"Yes, and persisted in going for that lady on horseback instead of
sending the groom after her, and all starting from the front of our
house," murmured Mrs. Sylvester with lazy chagrin.

Paula smiled, but otherwise took no notice of this standing topic of
disagreement.

"It was a beautiful day," she proceeded, "and we enjoyed it very much,
but we were so unfortunate as to run over a little boy, at that place
where the equestrian road crosses the foot path; a lame child, Mr.
Sylvester, who could not get out of our way; poor too, with a ragged
jacket on which seemed to make it all the worse."

Ona gave a shrug with her white shoulders, that seemed to question this.
"Did you injure him very much?" queried she, with a show of interest;
not sufficient however to impair her curiosity as to the cut of one of
her nails.

"I cannot say; his little arm was struck, and when I went to pick him
up, he lay back in my lap and moaned till I thought my heart would
break. But that was not the worst that happened. As we went hurrying up
the walk to find the child's father, we were met by a woman wrapped in a
black cloak whose long and greasy folds seemed like the symbol of her
own untold depravity. Her glance as she encountered the child writhing
in pain at my feet, made my heart stand still. It was more than
malignant, it was actually fiendish. 'Is he hurt?' she asked, and it
seemed as if she gloated over the question; she evidently longed to hear
that he was, longed to be told that he would die; and when I inquired if
she was his mother, she broke into a string of laughter, that seemed to
darken the daylight. 'His mother! O yes, we look alike, don't we!' she
exclaimed, pointing with a mocking gesture frightful to see, first at
his eyes which were very blue and beautiful, and then at her own which
were dark as evil thoughts could make them. I never saw anything so
dreadful. Malignancy! and towards a little lame child! what could be
more horrible!"

Mr. Sylvester and his wife exchanged looks, then the former aske