"Oh, yes! Nanny Culpepper--poor Culpepper, the serjeant's wife, who was killed," she answered. "But let me tell you, Henry, about that scar. When you were just about four, you were a dear rash boy, and I left you only for a minute in a room where there was a fire. In playing about, you tripped over something, and fell with your arm upon the burning wood. I heard you cry, and ran back in haste; but I found you burnt all across the wrist there. I dared not tell my lord or my lady; for I knew they would be very angry at my having left you; and I thought I should have a hard matter to quiet you. But the moment I told you that, if you made a noise, and they found out what had been done, Nanny would be sent away, and you would never see her again, you dried your eyes and ceased crying altogether. I never saw a child do the like; and, though the wound was very painful and I had not much skill, you suffered me to go on dressing it for you, and doing my best to heal it, till it was well, without ever letting any one see that you were in pain. Fortune favoured me, or I could not have concealed it so long; for those were troublous times. My lord was moving about, and a great deal in London. My lady was often away, too, anxious for his safety; and the wound got quite well before they ever remarked it Then, however, my lord questioned me sharply. I made a sullen answer, and he would have discharged me on the spot; for he was a strong-spirited man, and had much to grieve him. But my lady interceded for me, and I was kept on till he was forced to fly beyond seas. Then, when she was about to join him, he wrote to tell her what servants should accompany her. I was pointedly left out, and I know he had not forgotten me. But how you cried when you left me, I shall not forget. Oh, sir, you do not know what deep root is taken by the feelings of our hearts in those early years. Though you have not altogether forgotten your poor nurse, you have forgotten a great deal of what passed then; but there is not one thing--no, not one of your looks, or any of your little prattle--that I do not remember even now. I love Miss Emmeline very much, too, though she does not know it; but I can never love any one again as I loved you." "I am sure I loved you well too," replied Smeaton; "for the recollection of my poor nurse is the only thing referring to those days that still remains upon my mind." "I am sure you did--I am sure you did," she repeated. "But, oh, now, tell me, my lord, what do you mean by saying you are safe? Your father was what they call 'attainted,' I think; and that affected all his family. So how can _you_ be safe! They are cruel laws to punish an infant for the fault of his father."