The "dear lady" pursed up her lips in surprise. "You--want--"

"To warn you, madame."

Cora was dumb with astonishment, not unmingled with apprehension. What had broken loose now?

"I am only a poor old woman, lady, and nobody thinks that old Hagar has a heart for the wrongs of others. I said that I would never cross John Arthur's threshold again; but I have seen your pretty face, going to and fro through the village streets, and I knew there was no one to warn you but me."

"Oh, you did," remarked Cora, not knowing whether to be alarmed or amused, at the old woman's earnestness. "Well, old--what's your name?"

"Hagar, lady."

"Well, old Hagar, do you mean to tell me that I am in any particular danger just at present?"

"Is the dove in danger when it is in the nest of the hawk?" said Hagar, closing her eyes tight as she uttered the words, but looking otherwise very tragical.

Cora laughed musically. "Good gracious, old lady!" She was modifying her titles somewhat, probably under the influence of Hagar's flatteries. "You mean to compare me to a dove," laughing afresh, "in--a hawk's nest? Oh, dear! oh, dear!" wiping her eyes. "Now, then, please introduce me to the wicked hawk."

Hagar was getting tired of her part, and she made a direct rush at the point of the business, and with very good dramatic effect. "I mean your husband," she said, vehemently. "I mean John Arthur. He is a bad man. If he has not done it already, he will make you miserable by-and-by."

Cora drew herself up and tried to look severe. "Old lady," she said, with supernatural gravity, "don't you know that it is very improper for you to come and talk to me, like this, about my husband?"

"Just hear her!" sniffed Hagar, rather unnecessarily; "all because I think she is too young, and too pretty, to be sacrificed like the others--"

"Like the others? What others?"

"Like his first wife. She was young, like you, and a lovely lady. His cruelty was her death. And then he must worry and abuse her poor daughter, until she runs away and comes to an untimely end. And now--"

"Now, you fear he will make an end of me?" briskly. "Sit down, old lady," becoming still more affable. "So Mr. Arthur ill-used his first wife, my predecessor?"

"Thank you, dear lady; you are very kind to a poor old woman," seating herself gingerly on the edge of a chair opposite Cora. "Yes, indeed, he did ill-use her. She was my mistress, and I shall always hate him for it."

Cora mused. Here was an old servant who hated the master of Oakley; might she not prove useful, after a time? At any rate, it would be well to sound her.

"You were very much attached to the lady, no doubt?" insinuatingly.

"Yes; and who would not be? She was very sweet and good, was my poor mistress. Oh, he is a bad, bad man, madame, and you surely cannot be very happy with him."

"And he was unkind to his step-daughter, too?" ignoring the last supposition.

"Unkind? He was a wretch. Oh, I could almost murder him for his cruelty to that poor dead lassie!" fiercely.

"Perhaps he was none too kind to you," suggested Cora.

"Oh, he never treated me like a human being. He hated me because I tried to stand between her and harm. But he could not get rid of the sight of me. I have a little home where he can't avoid seeing me sometimes. I believe, if I kept always appearing before him, he would go raving mad, he hates me to that extent."

"Um-m! Is that so?"

"Yes, indeed. Why, lady, if I were without house or home, and you, out of the kindness of your heart, were to take me into your employment as the very humblest of your servants, I believe he would kill us both."

"You think he would?"

Cora actually seemed to encourage the old woman in her garrulity.

"Oh, I know it. It's not much in the way of charity, or kindness, you will be able to do in _this_ house. If he don't imprison you in one of these old closed-up musty rooms, you will be lucky. He is very dangerous. Sometimes I used to think he must be insane."

Cora started. "Well, Hagar," she said, sweetly, "it's very good of you to take so much interest in me. He is very cross sometimes, but, perhaps, it won't be so bad as you fear."

"I hope it won't," rising to go and shaking her head dubiously; "but I am afraid for you."

"Well," laughing, "I'll try and not let him lock me up, at any rate.

Now, is there anything I can do for you?"

[Illustration: If ever you want to make him feel what it is to make others suffer, Hagar will help you.--page 238.]

"Oh, no, lady. You looked so pretty, and so good, that I wanted to warn you; that is all. I should be glad if I could serve you, too, but I could never serve him. I don't want for anything, dear lady. Now the old woman will go."

"I won't forget you, Hagar, if I ever need a friend."

Hagar turned toward her. "If you ever want to make him feel what it is to make others suffer, Hagar will help you."

There was a vindictive light in the old woman's eyes, and she hobbled out of the room, looking as if she meant all she had said.

Cora sat, for a time, pondering over the interview, and trying to trace out some motive for insincerity on the old woman's part. But she could see none. She resolved to investigate a little, and all that evening was the most attentive and agreeable of wives. Abundant and versatile was her conversation. Deftly she led the talk up to the proper point, and then said, carelessly:

"Driving through the village, to-day, I passed that queer old woman--Hagar, do they call her? She glared at me, oh! so savagely."

"She is an old hag!" Mr Arthur answered, with unnecessary fierceness.

"I don't see what Satan has been about, all these years, that he's not taken her away to her proper atmosphere."

"Why," in pretty surprise, "I thought she used to be one of your servants?"

"She was a servant to my first wife," moodily. "I got rid of the baggage quick enough, when Mrs. Arthur died. She is an old viper, and put more disobedience into that girl Madeline's head, than I ever could get out."

"What a horrid old wretch she must be!" shuddering.

Then the conversation dropped, and Cora was satisfied.

"The old woman shall be my tool," she thought, triumphantly.

CHAPTER XXII.

TO BE, TO DO, TO SUFFER.

On the day that followed the events last related, Madeline Payne returned to Oakley to resume her self-imposed task.