"Yes, mamma. The superscription was in a very delicate feminine
handwriting; and the seal was a wounded falcon, drawing the arrow from
its own breast--surmounted by an earl's coronet."

"'Tis the seal of the Countess of Hurstmonceux."




CHAPTER IV.

THE FATAL DEED.

I am undone; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me.
The hind that would be mated by the lion,
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty though a plague
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brow, his hawking eyes, his curls
In our heart's table; heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favor.

--_Shakspere_.

Hannah Worth walked home, laden like a beast of burden, with an enormous
bag of hanked yarn on her back. She entered her hut, dropped the burden
on the floor, and stopped to take breath.