Ishmael, or In The Depths - Page 133/567

"You have many blessings, madam."

"I have rank and wealth and good looks, if you mean them. But, ah! do

you think they make a woman happy?"

"No, madam."

"Listen, Hannah! My poor father was an apostate to his faith. My nation

cast me off for being his daughter and for marrying a Christian. My

parents are dead. My people are estranged. My husband alienated. But

still I have one comfort and one hope! My comfort is--the--the simple

existence of my husband! Yes, Hannah! alienated as he is, it is a

comfort to me to know that he lives. If it were not for that, I myself

should die! Oh, Hannah! it is common enough to talk of being willing to

die for one we love! It is easy to die--much easier sometimes than to

live: the last is often very hard! I will do more than die for my love:

I will live for him! live through long years of dreary loneliness,

taking my consolation in rearing his son, if you will give me the boy,

and hoping in some distant future for his return, when I can present his

boy to him, and say to him: 'If you cannot love me for my own sake, try

to love me a little for his!' Oh, Hannah! do not dash this last hope

from me! give me the boy!"

Hannah bent her head in painful thought. To grant Lady Hurstmonceux's

prayer would be to break her vow, by virtually acknowledging the

parentage of Ishmael and betraying Herman Brudenell--and without

effecting any real good to the lady or the child, since in all human

probability the child's hours were already numbered.

"Hannah! will you speak to me?" pleaded Berenice.

"Yes, my lady. I was wishing to speak to you all along; but you would

not give me a chance. If you had, my lady, you would not have been

compelled to talk so much. I wished to ask you then what I wish to ask

you now: What reason have you for thinking and speaking so ill of my

sister as you do?"

"I do not blame her; I told you so."

"You cover her errors with a veil of charity; that is what you mean, my

lady! She needs no such veil! My sister is as innocent as an angel. And

you, my lady, are mistaken."

"Mistaken? as to--to--Oh, Hannah! how am I mistaken?" asked the

countess, with sudden eagerness, perhaps with sudden hope.

"If you will compose yourself, my lady, and come and sit down, I will

tell you the truth, as I have told it to everybody."