able a gentleman ever to descend to a low intrigue with one of his
servants."

"Yes," said the woman, "and Martha Jane Lloyd was too good a wife to
have listened to him if he had."

"Then," cried Trevor, in a fury, "how dare you say what you did?"

"Because, my boy, it is the truth. You are my flesh and blood."

"You are mad!" exclaimed Trevor. "Loose my wrist, woman, or I shall
hurt you."

He looked sharply round, but there was no help at hand; for his first
impulse was to tie her wrists, and have her carried to the house. But
she prisoned one of his the tighter, by placing her other bony hand a
little higher.

"_I'm_ not mad, Richard," she said, quietly; "and when you hear me, you
will see that you must mind me; for, at a word from me, all your riches
would be swept away, and you might change places with your keeper."

"Humphrey!" ejaculated Richard, his brain in a whirl of doubt. "Tell
me--what do you mean?"

"Only this," said the woman, hoarsely. "That Mrs Trevor and I had sons
almost together. Humphrey and you were the two boys. Do you
understand?"

"No," said Richard, fiercely. "Go on."

"I got my sister, Dinah Price, from Caerwmlych to come and be nurse for
both, for I was in the house--the maid Jane, as they called me then. Do
you want to hear more?"

"Go on," said Richard, in a hoarse whisper.

"One day I sat thinking. There was death in the house, Richard, and I
was wondering about the fixture--how hard it would be if my fine boy
should grow up to poverty through the changes that might take place, and
me perhaps sent away by a new mistress. I was jealous, too, of the
Trevors' boy, petted and pampered and waited upon, while my darling had
to take his chance. I tell you it made me nearly mad sometimes, for I
was ill and weak; and I think the devil came and tempted me, knowing how
I was."

"Go on," said Richard; for she stopped, and the great drops of sweat
were standing on his brow.

"One day, boy, I felt that I could bear it no longer. Dinah had gone
down to the kitchen to join the servants watching the funeral; and I sat
thinking, when the Trevors' baby cried, and no one went. I had you on
my knee, Richard, nursing you, and I went up, innocently enough, to
quiet the motherless little bairn, and as I saw it lying alone there in
its cradle, my heart yearned over the poor little thing, and I took it
in my arms, when it nestled to my breast so pitifully, that I nursed it
as I did y