“Oh, poor little fellow, how feeble he looks!  Hannah, it seems such a pity that all the plans I formed for his future welfare should be lost because he is not what I supposed him to be; it seems hard that the revelation which has made me happy should make him unfortunate; or, rather, that it should prevent his good fortune!  And it shall not do so entirely.  It is true, I cannot now adopt him,—­the child of a stranger,—­and take him home and rear him as my own, as I should have done had he been what I fancied him to be.  Because it might not be right, you know, and my husband might not approve it.  And, oh, Hannah, I have grown so timid lately that I dread, I dread more than you can imagine, to do anything that he might not like.  Not that he is a domestic tyrant either.  You have lived on his estate long enough to know that Herman Brudenell is all that is good and kind.  But then you see I am all wrong—­and always was so.  Everything I do is ill done—­and always so.  It is all my own fault, and I must try to amend it, if ever I am to hope for happiness.  So I must not do anything unless I am sure that it will not displease him, therefore I must not take this child of a stranger home, and rear him as my own.  But I will do all that I can for him here.  At present his little wants are all physical.  Take this purse, dear woman, and make him as comfortable as you can.  I think he ought to have medical attendance; procure it for him; get everything he needs; and when the purse is empty bring it to me to be replenished.  So much for the present.  If he lives I will pay for his schooling, and see that he is apprenticed to some good master to learn a trade.”

And with these words the countess held out a well-filled purse to Hannah.

With a deep blush Hannah shook her head and put the offered bounty back, saying: 

“No, my lady, no.  Nora’s child must not become the object of your charity.  It will not do.  My nephew’s wants are few, and will not be felt long; I can supply them all while he lives, I thank you all the same, madam.”

Berenice looked seriously disappointed.  Again she pressed her bounty upon Hannah, saying: 

“I do not really think you are right to refuse assistance that is proffered to this poor child.”

But Hannah was firm as she replied: 

“I know that I am right, madam.  And so long as I am able and willing to supply all his wants myself, and so long as I do supply them, I do him no injury in refusing for him the help of others.”

“But do you have to supply all his wants?  I suppose that his father must be a poor man, but is he so poor as not to be able to render you some assistance?”

Hannah paused a moment in thought before answering this question, then she said: 

“His father is dead, my lady.” (Dead to him was her mental reservation.)

“Poor orphan,” sighed the countess, with the tears springing to her eyes; “and you will not let me do anything for him?”