“‘He said he was of Scottish descent on his father’s side, but born in England, at Grasmere, I think—that he left there when he was three years old—that his father died when he was twenty-two, and left him a large property which by judicious management had doubled in value, so that he was very rich, and that weighed so much with me, for we were poor, mother, and Mary, and Fred, who wants to go to college. I’ll tell you just the truth, I worked in the _shoe-shop_, and my hands were cut with the waxed-ends, and my clothes smelled of leather, and I was nothing but a shop-girl, and I hated it and wanted handsome dresses, and jewelry, and money, and position, and Mr. Haverleigh could give me these, I thought, and he showed us letters from London and Liverpool, and so I married him, and he overheard what I said of him to Lucy Fleming in New York, and it made him so angry and jealous that he brought me here, and that is all. Oh, madame, tell me, please, what you know of him, and what people say of him who know him best, and will he ever set me free?’ “Anna asked her questions rapidly, but madame replied in the same quiet, measured manner, which marked all her movements. “‘I think he told you truly with regard to his birth and his money, and people who know him best say he is honest, and upright, and generous to a fault. Did he tell you anything of his mother? He must have spoken of her.’ “Madame was the questioner now, and Anna replied: “‘He never said much of her, nothing which I recall, but I have an impression that her family was not as good as his father’s. Do you know? Did you ever see her?’ “‘Yes, I have seen his mother.’ “‘Oh, tell me of her, please. Was she a lady?’ “‘Not as the English account ladies, perhaps,’ madame said, and Anna went on: “‘Was she nice? Was she good?’ “‘I believe she tried to be good,’ was the low-spoken answer, and Anna cried: “‘Then there must be some good in him and sometime he’ll relent and set me free. It would be so terrible to die here, and mother and Mary never know. He says I am crazy; he has told you so, but you don’t believe it; tell me, you do not believe me mad!’ “‘Not yet, but you will be if you suffer yourself to get so fearfully excited. Be quiet and make the best of the situation, which is not without its ameliorating circumstances. Everybody will be very kind to you here, and believe me when I say it is better to live here without him, than to travel the world over with him; so make the best of it, and at least seem to acquiesce. If you are fond of reading there are plenty of books in the library, many of them English. There is a fine piano, too. Are you fond of music?’ “‘Yes, but do not play. I always had to work, and could not afford the lessons,’ Anna replied, and Madame Verwest said: “‘I think I can get you a teacher. I know Mr. Haverleigh will not object to that: and now you must rest—must sleep. I’ll draw the curtains of the bed, and leave you alone for a time.’