For an instant Madam Conway had hoped so too; but when she reflected, she knew that it was true.  Old Hagar had been very minute in her explanations to Margaret, who in turn had written exactly what she had heard, and Madam Conway, when she recalled the past, could have no doubt that it was true.  She remembered everything, but more distinctly the change of dress at the time of the baptism.  There could be no mistake.  Margaret was not hers, and so she said to Arthur Carrollton, turning her head away as if she too were in some way answerable for the disgrace.

“It matters not,” he replied, “whose she has been.  She is mine now, and if you feel able we will consult together as to the surest method of finding her.”  A sudden faintness came over Madam Conway, and, while the expression of her face changed to one of joyful surprise, she stammered out:  “Can it be I hear aright?  Do I understand you?  Are you willing to take poor Maggie back?”

“I certainly have no other intention,” he answered.  “There was a moment, the memory of which makes me ashamed, when my pride rebelled; but it is over now, and though Maggie cannot in reality be again your child, she can be my wife, and I must find her.”

“You make me so happy—­oh, so happy!” said Madam Conway.  “I feared you would cast her off, and in that case it would have been my duty to do so too, though I never loved a human being as at this moment I love her.”

Mr. Carrollton looked as if he did not fully comprehend the woman who, loving Margaret as she said she did, could yet be so dependent upon his decision; but he made no comment, and when next he spoke he announced his intention of calling upon Hagar, who possibly could tell him where Margaret had gone.  “At all events,” said he, “I may ascertain why the secret, so long kept, was at this late day divulged.  It may be well,” he continued, “to say nothing to the servants as yet, save that Maggie has gone.  Mrs. Jeffrey, however, had better be let into the secret at once.  We can trust her, I think.”

Madam Conway bowed, and Mr. Carrollton left the room, starting immediately for the cottage by 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?”