To my surprise, Zenobia—­of whose haughty spirit I had been told so many examples—­absolutely changed color, and seemed mortified and confused.

“You do not quite do me justice, Mr. Hollingsworth,” said she almost humbly.  “I am willing to be kind to the poor girl.  Is she a protegee of yours?  What can I do for her?”

“Have you anything to ask of this lady?” said Hollingsworth kindly to the girl.  “I remember you mentioned her name before we left town.”

“Only that she will shelter me,” replied the girl tremulously.  “Only that she will let me be always near her.”

“Well, indeed,” exclaimed Zenobia, recovering herself and laughing, “this is an adventure, and well-worthy to be the first incident in our life of love and free-heartedness!  But I accept it, for the present, without further question, only,” added she, “it would be a convenience if we knew your name.”

“Priscilla,” said the girl; and it appeared to me that she hesitated whether to add anything more, and decided in the negative.  “Pray do not ask me my other name,—­at least not yet,—­if you will be so kind to a forlorn creature.”

Priscilla!—­Priscilla!  I repeated the name to myself three or four times; and in that little space, this quaint and prim cognomen had so amalgamated itself with my idea of the girl, that it seemed as if no other name could have adhered to her for a moment.  Heretofore the poor thing had not shed any tears; but now that she found herself received, and at least temporarily established, the big drops began to ooze out from beneath her eyelids as if she were full of them.  Perhaps it showed the iron substance of my heart, that I could not help smiling at this odd scene of unknown and unaccountable calamity, into which our cheerful party had been entrapped without the liberty of choosing whether to sympathize or no.  Hollingsworth’s behavior was certainly a great deal more creditable than mine.

“Let us not pry further into her secrets,” he said to Zenobia and the rest of us, apart; and his dark, shaggy face looked really beautiful with its expression of thoughtful benevolence.  “Let us conclude that Providence has sent her to us, as the first-fruits of the world, which we have undertaken to make happier than we find it.  Let us warm her poor, shivering body with this good fire, and her poor, shivering heart with our best kindness.  Let us feed her, and make her one of us.  As we do by this friendless girl, so shall we prosper.  And, in good time, whatever is desirable for us to know will be melted out of her, as inevitably as those tears which we see now.”

“At least,” remarked I, “you may tell us how and where you met with her.”

“An old man brought her to my lodgings,” answered Hollingsworth, “and begged me to convey her to Blithedale, where—­so I understood him—­she had friends; and this is positively all I know about the matter.”