“Calling her names! ordering her out of the house!  Did Mrs. Brudenell dare to treat Nora Worth so?” cried Hannah indignantly.

“Well, honey, she did rayther, that’s a fact.  Law, honey, you know yourself how ha’sh ladies is to poor young gals as has done wrong.  A hawk down on a chicken aint nuffin to ’em!”

“But my sister has done no wrong; Nora Worth is as innocent as an angel, as honorable as an empress.  I can prove it, and I will prove it, let the consequences to the Brudenells be what they may!  Called her ill names, did she?  Very well! whether my poor wronged child lives or dies this bitter night, I will clear her character to-morrow, let who will be blackened instead of her!  Ordered her out of the house, did she?  All right! we will soon see how long the heir himself will be permitted to stop there!  There’s law in the land, for rich as well as poor, I reckon!  Threatened her with a constable, did she?  Just so!  I wonder how she will feel when her own son is dragged off to prison!  That will take her down—­”

Hannah’s words were suddenly cut short, for Jovial, who was going on before her, fell sprawling over some object that lay directly across the path, and the lantern rolled down the hill.

“What is the matter, Jovial?” she inquired.

“Honey, I done fell—­fell over somefin’ or oder; it is—­law, yes—­”

“What, Jovial?”

“It’s a ’oman, honey; feels like Miss Nora.”

In an instant Hannah was down on her knees beside the fallen figure, clearing away the snow that covered it.

“It is Nora,” she said, trying to lift the insensible body; but it was a cold, damp, heavy weight, deeply bedded in the snow, and resisted all her efforts.

“Oh, Jovial, I am afraid she is dead! and I cannot get her up!  You come and try!” wept Hannah.

“Well, there now, I knowed it—­I jest did; I knowed if she was turned out in de snow-storm this night she’d freeze to death!  Ole mist’ess aint no better dan a she-bearess!” grumbled the old man, as he rooted his arms under the cold dead weight of the unfortunate girl, and with much tugging succeeded in raising her.

“Now, den, Miss Hannah, hadn’t I better tote her back to my ole ’oman?”

“No; we are much nearer the hut than the hall, and even if it were not so, I would not have her taken back there.”

They were in fact going up the path leading to the hut on the top of the hill.  So, by dint of much lugging and tugging, and many breathless pauses to rest, the old man succeeded in bearing his lifeless burden to the hut.

CHAPTER XI.

THE MARTYRS OF LOVE.

  She woke at length, but not as sleepers wake,
    Rather the dead, for life seemed something new,
  A strange sensation which she must partake
    Perforce, since whatsoever met her view
  Struck not her memory; though a heavy ache
    Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat, still true,
  Brought back the sense of pain, without the cause,
  For, for a time the furies made a pause.