“But Uncle Jovial did.”

“Dat ole sinner has got eyes like gimlets, dey bores into eberyting!”

“But didn’t he tell you?”

“Not a singly breaf! he better not! he know bery well it’s much as his ole wool’s worf to say a word agin dat gal to me.  No, he on’y say how Miss Nora wer’ bery ill, an’ in want ob eberyting in de worl’ an’ eberyting else besides.  An’ how here wer’ a chance to ’vest our property to ‘vantage, by lendin’ of it te de Lor’, accordin’ te de Scriptur’s as ‘whoever giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord.’  So I hunted up all I could spare and fotch it ober here, little thinkin’ what a sight would meet my old eyes!  Well, Lord!”

“But, Dinah,” said the weeping Hannah, “you must not think ill of Nora!  She does not deserve it.  And you must not, indeed.”

“Chile, it aint for me to judge no poor motherless gal as is already ’peared afore her own Righteous Judge.”

“Yes, but you shall judge her! and judge her with righteous judgment, too!  You have known her all your life—­all hers, I mean.  You put the first baby clothes on her that she ever wore!  And you will put the last dress that she ever will!  And now judge her, Dinah, looking on her pure brow, and remembering her past life, is she a girl likely to have been ‘led astray,’ as you call it?”

“No, ’fore my ’Vine Marster in heaben, aint she?  As I ’members ob de time anybody had a-breaved a s’picion ob Miss Nora, I’d jest up’d an’ boxed deir years for ’em good—­’deed me!  But what staggers of me, honey, is dat! How de debil we gwine to ’count for dat?” questioned old Dinah, pointing in sorrowful suspicion at the child.

For all answer Hannah beckoned to the old woman to watch her, while she untied from Nora’s neck a narrow black ribbon, and removed from it a plain gold ring.

“A wedding-ring!” exclaimed Dinah, in perplexity.

“Yes, it was put upon her finger by the man that married her.  Then it was taken off and hung around her neck, because for certain reasons she could not wear it openly.  But now it shall go with her to the grave in its right place,” said Hannah, as she slipped the ring upon the poor dead finger.

“Lor’, child, who was it as married of her?”

“I cannot tell you.  I am bound to secrecy.”

The old negress shook her head slowly and doubtfully.

“I’s no misdoubts as she was innocenter dan a lamb, herself, for she do look it as she lay dar wid de heabenly smile frozen on her face; but I do misdoubts dese secrety marriages; I ’siders ob ’em no ’count.  Ten to one, honey, de poor forso’k sinner as married her has anoder wife some’ers.”

Without knowing it the old woman had hit the exact truth.

Hannah sighed deeply, and wondered silently how it was that neither Dinah nor Jovial had ever once suspected their young master to be the man.

Old Dinah perceived that her conversation distressed Hannah, and so she threw off her bonnet and cloak and set herself to work to help the poor bereaved sister.