Maggie Miller | Page 7

stepped forward with the other child upon her arm.
"What name?" asked the minister; and she answered, "Her mother's; call her for her mother!"
"Hester," said Madam Conway, turning to the clergyman, who understood nothing from Hagar's reply.
So Hester was the name given to the child in whose veins the blood of English noblemen was flowing; and when the ceremony was ended Hagar bore back to her room Hester Hamilton, the child defrauded of her birthright, and Maggie Miller, the heroine of our story.

CHAPTER III
HESTER AND MAGGIE.
"It is over now," old Hagar thought, as she laid the children upon their pillows. "The deed is done, and by their own hands too. There is nothing left for me now but a confession, and that I cannot make;" so with a heavy weight upon her soul she sat down, resolving to keep her own counsel and abide the consequence, whatever it might be.
But it wore upon her terribly,--that secret,--and though it helped in a measure to divert her mind from dwelling too much upon her daughter's death it haunted her continually, making her a strange, eccentric woman whom the servants persisted in calling crazy, while even Madam Conway failed to comprehend her. Her face, always dark, seemed to have acquired a darker, harder look, while her eyes wore a wild, startled expression, as if she were constantly followed by some tormenting fear. At first Mrs. Miller objected to trusting her with the babe; but when Madam Conway suggested that the woman who had charge of little Theo should also take care of Maggie she fell upon her knees and begged most piteously that the child might not be taken from her. "Everything I have ever loved has left me," said she, "and I cannot give her up."
"But they say you are crazy," answered Madam Conway, somewhat surprised that Hagar should manifest so much affection for a child not at all connected to her. "They say you are crazy, and no one trusts a crazy woman."
"Crazy!" repeated Hagar half-scornfully; "crazy--'tis not craziness--'tis the trouble--the trouble--that's killing me! But I'll hide it closer than it's hidden now," she continued, "if you'll let her stay; and 'fore Heaven I swear that sooner than harm one hair of Maggie's head I'd part with my own life;" and taking the sleeping child in her arms she stood like a wild beast at bay.
Madam Conway did not herself really believe in Hagar's insanity. She had heretofore been perfectly faithful to whatever was committed to her care, so she bade her be quiet, saying they would trust her for a time.
"It's the talking to myself," said Hagar, when left alone. "It's the talking to myself which makes them call me crazy; and though I might talk to many a worse woman than old Hagar Warren, I'll stop it; I'll be still as the grave, and when next they gossip about me it shall be of something besides craziness."
So Hagar became suddenly silent and uncommunicative, mingling but little with the servants, but staying all day long in her room, where she watched the children with untiring care. Especially was she kind to Hester, who as time passed on proved to be a puny, sickly thing, never noticing anyone, but moaning frequently as if in pain. Very tenderly old Hagar nursed her, carrying her often in her arms until they ached from very weariness, while Madam Conway, who watched her with a vigilant eye, complained that she neglected little Maggie.
"And what if I do?" returned Hagar somewhat bitterly. "Aint there a vast difference between the two? S'pose Hester was your own flesh and blood, would you think I could do too much for the poor thing?" And she glanced compassionately at the poor wasted form which lay upon her lap, gasping for breath, and presenting a striking contrast to little Maggie, who in her cradle was crowing and laughing in childish glee at the bright firelight which blazed upon the hearth.
Maggie was indeed a beautiful child. From her mother she had inherited the boon of perfect health, and she throve well in spite of the bumped heads and pinched fingers which frequently fell to her lot, when Hagar was too busy with the feeble child to notice her. The plaything of the whole house, she was greatly petted by the servants, who vied with each other in tracing points of resemblance between her and the Conways; while the grandmother prided herself particularly on the arched eyebrows and finely cut upper lip, which she said were sure marks of high blood, and never found in the lower ranks! With a scornful expression on her face, old Hagar would listen to these remarks, and then, when sure that no one heard her, she would mutter: "Marks of blood! What nonsense! I'm almost glad I've solved