"Resting myself, as you see, miss," answered the harridan. "But how charming you look this morning! That black velvet bonnet sets off your beautiful complexion; and the fresh air has given a lovely glow to your cheeks." "You have not uttered that compliment without a motive," said Ellen, vainly endeavouring to suppress a half-smile of satisfaction. "But you must not suppose that your flattery will make me forget the part which you played when Mr. Greenwood had me conveyed to his house somewhere in the country." "My dear child, do not be angry with me on that account," said the old hag. "Mr. Greenwood thought that you would prefer me as your servant instead of a stranger." "Or rather, he hired you to talk me over to his wishes—or, perhaps, because he knew that you would wink at any violence which he might use. But I outwitted you both," added Ellen, laughing. "Ah! now I see that you have forgiven me, my child," cried the hag. "And when I behold your sweet lips, red as cherries—your lovely blue eyes, so soft and languishing—and that small round chin, with its charming dimple, I feel convinced——" "Nay—you are determined to flatter me," interrupted Ellen; "but I shall not forgive you the more readily on that account." "How well this pelisse becomes your beautiful figure, my child," said the hag, affecting not to notice Ellen's last observation. "Cease this nonsense," cried Miss Monroe; "and tell me what brings you hither." "To see you once more, my child." "How did you discover my abode?" "A pleasant question, forsooth!" ejaculated the hag. "Do you think that I am not well acquainted with all—yes, _all_ that concerns you?" she added significantly. "Alas! I am well aware that you know much—too much," said Ellen, with a profound sigh. "Much!" repeated the hag. "I know _all_, I say,—even to the existence of the little one that will some day call you mother." "Who told you that? Speak—who told you _that_?" demanded Ellen, greatly excited. "It cannot matter—since I know it," returned the hag: "it cannot matter." "One question," said Ellen,—"and I will ask you no more. Was Mr. Greenwood your informant?" "He was not," answered the hag. "And now tell me, without circumlocution, what business has brought you hither—for that you came to meet with me I have no doubt." "Sit down by me, my child," said the hag, "and listen while I speak to you." "Nay—I can attend to you as well here," returned Ellen, laughing, as she leant against one of the trees—an attitude which revealed her tiny feet and delicate ankles. "You seem to have no confidence in me," observed the hag; "and yet I have ever been your friend." "Yes—you have helped me to my ruin," said Ellen, mournfully. "And yet I scarcely blame you for all that, because you only aided me to discover what I sought at the time—and that was _bread at any sacrifice_. Well—go on, and delay not: I will listen to you, if only through motives of curiosity."