"Say, would you bear it as well--could you love
her as much--would you change with me, take Hester for your own, and
give me little Maggie?" she persisted, and Madam Conway, surprised
at her excited manner, which she attributed in a measure to envy,
answered coldly: "Of course not. Still, if God had seen fit to give me
a child like Hester, I should try to be reconciled, but I am thankful
he has not thus dealt with me."
"'Tis enough. I am satisfied," thought Hagar. "She would not thank me
for telling her. The secret shall be kept;" and half exultingly she
anticipated the pride she should feel in seeing her granddaughter
grown up a lady and an heiress.
Anon, however, there came stealing over her a feeling of remorse, as
she reflected that the child defrauded of its birthright would, if it
lived, be compelled to serve in the capacity of a servant; and many a
night, when all else was silent in the old stone house, she paced up
and down the room, her long hair, now fast turning gray, falling over
her shoulders, and her large eyes dimmed with tears, as she thought
what the future would bring to the infant she carried in her arms.
But the evil she so much dreaded never came, for when the winter snows
were again falling they made a little grave beneath the same pine tree
where Hester Hamilton lay sleeping, and, while they dug that grave,
old Hagar sat, with folded arms and tearless eyes, gazing fixedly upon
the still white face and thin blue lips which would never again be
distorted with pain.
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