"No marm, he warn't," answered the peddler, who, like a great many
talkative people, pretended to know more than he really did, and who
in this particular instance was certainly mistaken. "I can tell you
egzactly how that is: Henry was the son of Mr. Hampleton's first
marriage--Henry Hampleton. The second wife, the one your darter lived
with, was the Widder Warner, and had a little gal, Rose, when she
married Mr. Hampleton. This Widder Warner's husband's brother married
Mr. Hampleton's sister, the woman who took the children, and had Henry
change his name to Warner. The Hampletons and Warners were mighty
big-feelin' folks, and the old squire's match mortified 'em
dreadfully."
"Where are they now?" gasped Hagar, hoping there might be some
mistake.
"There you've got me!" answered Martin. "I haven't seen 'em this
dozen year; but the last I heard, Miss Warner and Rose was livin' in
Leominster, and Henry was in a big store in Wooster. But what the
plague is the matter?" he continued, alarmed at the expression of
Hagar's face, as well as at the strangeness of her manner.
Wringing her hands as if she would wrench her fingers from their
sockets, she clutched at her long white hair, and, rocking to and fro,
moaned, "Woe is me, and woe the day when I was born!"
From everyone save her grandmother Margaret had kept the knowledge of
her changed feelings towards Henry Warner; and looking upon a marriage
between the two as an event surely to be expected, old Hagar was
overwhelmed with grief and fear.
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