"Oh, I know it. It's not much in the way of charity, or kindness, you will be able to do in _this_ house. If he don't imprison you in one of these old closed-up musty rooms, you will be lucky. He is very dangerous. Sometimes I used to think he must be insane." Cora started. "Well, Hagar," she said, sweetly, "it's very good of you to take so much interest in me. He is very cross sometimes, but, perhaps, it won't be so bad as you fear." "I hope it won't," rising to go and shaking her head dubiously; "but I am afraid for you." "Well," laughing, "I'll try and not let him lock me up, at any rate. Now, is there anything I can do for you?" [Illustration: If ever you want to make him feel what it is to make others suffer, Hagar will help you.--page 238.] "Oh, no, lady. You looked so pretty, and so good, that I wanted to warn you; that is all. I should be glad if I could serve you, too, but I could never serve him. I don't want for anything, dear lady. Now the old woman will go." "I won't forget you, Hagar, if I ever need a friend." Hagar turned toward her. "If you ever want to make him feel what it is to make others suffer, Hagar will help you." There was a vindictive light in the old woman's eyes, and she hobbled out of the room, looking as if she meant all she had said. Cora sat, for a time, pondering over the interview, and trying to trace out some motive for insincerity on the old woman's part. But she could see none. She resolved to investigate a little, and all that evening was the most attentive and agreeable of wives. Abundant and versatile was her conversation. Deftly she led the talk up to the proper point, and then said, carelessly: "Driving through the village, to-day, I passed that queer old woman--Hagar, do they call her? She glared at me, oh! so savagely." "She is an old hag!" Mr Arthur answered, with unnecessary fierceness. "I don't see what Satan has been about, all these years, that he's not taken her away to her proper atmosphere." "Why," in pretty surprise, "I thought she used to be one of your servants?" "She was a servant to my first wife," moodily. "I got rid of the baggage quick enough, when Mrs. Arthur died. She is an old viper, and put more disobedience into that girl Madeline's head, than I ever could get out." "What a horrid old wretch she must be!" shuddering. Then the conversation dropped, and Cora was satisfied. "The old woman shall be my tool," she thought, triumphantly. CHAPTER XXII. TO BE, TO DO, TO SUFFER. On the day that followed the events last related, Madeline Payne returned to Oakley to resume her self-imposed task.