temptation without that prayer."

Still, reason as she would, Hagar could not shake off the strange
feeling, and as she sat half dozing in her chair, with the dim
lamplight flickering over her dark face, she fancied that the October
wind, sighing so mournfully through the locust trees beneath the
window, and then dying away in the distance, bore upon its wing,
"'Lead us not into temptation.' Hagar, you have much need to say that
prayer."

Aye, Hagar Warren--much need, much need!




CHAPTER II

HAGAR'S SECRET.


The wintry winds were blowing cold and chill around the old stone
house, and the deep untrodden snow lay highly piled upon the ground.
For many days the gray, leaden clouds had frowned gloomily down upon
the earth below, covering it with a thick veil of white. But the storm
was over now; with the setting sun it had gone to rest, and the pale
moonlight stole softly into the silent chamber, where Madam Conway
bent anxiously down to see if but the faintest breath came from the
parted lips of her only daughter. There had been born to her that
night another grandchild--a little, helpless girl, which now in an
adjoining room was Hagar's special care; and Hagar, sitting there with