“I hope you will excuse me,” Stella replied.  “I am not at liberty to answer that question.”

The mother said nothing.  The daughter asked sharply, “Why not?”

Stella addressed her answer to the mother.  “I come from a person who desires to be of service to you as an unknown friend,” she said.

The wan face of the widow suddenly brightened.  “Oh!” she exclaimed, “has my brother heard of the General’s death? and has he forgiven me my marriage at last?”

“No, no!” Stella interposed; “I must not mislead you.  The person whom I represent is no relation of yours.”

Even in spite of this positive assertion, the poor woman held desperately to the hope that had been roused in her.  “The name by which you know me may mislead you,” she suggested anxiously.  “My late husband assumed the name in his exile here.  Perhaps, if I told you—­”

The daughter stopped her there.  “My dear mother, leave this to me.”  The widow sighed resignedly, and resumed her work.  “Madame Marillac will do very well as a name,” the girl continued, turning to Stella, “until we know something more of each other.  I suppose you are well acquainted with the person whom you represent?”

“Certainly, or I should not be here.”

“You know the person’s family connections, in that case? and you can say for certain whether they are French connections or not?”

“I can say for certain,” Stella answered, “that they are English connections.  I represent a friend who feels kindly toward Madame Marillac; nothing more.”

“You see, mother, you were mistaken.  Bear it as bravely, dear, as you have borne other trials.”  Saying this very tenderly, she addressed herself once more to Stella, without attempting to conceal the accompanying change in her manner to coldness and distrust.  “One of us must speak plainly,” she said.  “Our few friends are nearly as poor as we are, and they are all French.  I tell you positively that we have no English friends.  How has this anonymous benefactor been informed of our poverty?  You are a stranger to us—­you cannot have given the information?”

Stella’s eyes were now open to the awkward position in which she had placed herself.  She met the difficulty boldly, still upheld by the conviction that she was serving a purpose cherished by Romayne.  “You had good reasons, no doubt, mademoiselle, when you advised your mother to conceal her true name,” she rejoined.  “Be just enough to believe that your ‘anonymous benefactor’ has good reasons for concealment too.”

It was well said, and it encouraged Madame Marillac to take Stella’s part.  “My dear Blanche, you speak rather harshly to this good young lady,” she said to her daughter.  “You have only to look at her, and to see that she means well.”

Blanche took up her needle again, with dogged submission.  “If we are to accept charity, mother, I should like to know the hand that gives it,” she answered.  “I will say no more.”