“I prefer to take care of him myself, madam, for the short time that he will need care,” replied Hannah.

“Well, then,” sighed the lady, as she restored her purse to her pocket, “remember this—­if from any circumstances whatever you should change your mind, and be willing to accept my protection for this child, come to me frankly, and you will find that I have not changed my mind.  I shall always be glad to do anything in my power for this poor babe.”

“I thank you, my lady; I thank you very much,” said Hannah, without committing herself to any promise.

What instinct was it that impelled the countess to stoop and kiss the brow of the sleeping babe, and then to catch him up and press him fondly to her heart?  Who can tell?

The action awoke the infant, who opened his large blue eyes to the gaze of the lady.

“Hannah, you need not think this boy is going to die.  He is only a skeleton; but in his strong, bright eyes there is no sign of death—­but certainty of life!  Take the word of one who has the blood of a Hebrew prophetess in her veins for that!” said Berenice, with solemnity.

“It will be as the Lord wills, my lady,” Hannah reverently replied.

The countess laid the infant back upon the bed and then drew her sable cloak around her shoulders, shook hands with Hannah, and departed.

Hannah Worth stood looking after the lady for some little space of time.  Hannah was an accurate reader of character, and she had seen at the first glance that this pale, sad, but most beautiful woman could not be the bad, artful, deceitful creature that her husband had been led to believe and to represent her.  And she wondered what mistake it could possibly have been that had estranged Herman Brudenell from his lovely wife and left his heart vacant for the reception of another and a most fatal passion.

“Whatever it may have been, I have nothing to do with it.  I pity the gentle lady, but I cannot accept her bounty for Nora’s child,” said Hannah, dismissing the subject from her thoughts and returning to her work.

In this manner, from one plausible motive or another, was all help rejected for the orphan boy.

It seemed as if Providence were resolved to cast the infant helpless upon life, to show the world what a poor boy might make of himself, by God’s blessing on his own unaided efforts!

CHAPTER XVIII.

BERENICE.

  Her cheeks grew pale and dim her eye,
    Her voice was low, her mirth was stay’d;
  Upon her heart there seemed to lie
    The darkness of a nameless shade;
  She paced the house from room to room,
    Her form became a walking gloom.

  —­Read.

It was yet early in the afternoon when Berenice reached Brudenell Hall.

Before going to her own apartments she looked into the drawing room, and seeing Mrs. Brudenell, inquired: