Maggie Miller | Page 3

Conway received her again into her family.
"Just my luck!" was Hagar's mental comment, as she finished reading the letter and carried it to her mistress, who had always liked Hester, and who readily consented to give her a home, provided she put on no airs from having been for a time the wife of a reputed wealthy man. "Mustn't put on airs!" muttered Hagar, as she left the room. "Just as if airs wasn't for anybody but high bloods!" And with the canker-worm of envy at her heart she wrote to Hester, who came immediately; and Hagar--when she heard her tell the story of her wrongs, how her husband's sister, indignant at his marriage with a sewing-girl, had removed from him the children, one a stepchild and one his own, and how of all his vast fortune there was not left for her a penny--experienced again the old bitterness of feeling, and murmured that fate should thus deal with her and hers.
With the next day's mail there came to Madam Conway a letter bearing a foreign postmark, and bringing the sad news that her son-in-law had been lost in a storm while crossing the English Channel, and that her daughter Margaret, utterly crushed and heartbroken, would sail immediately for America, where she wished only to lay her weary head upon her mother's bosom and die.
"So there is one person that has no respect for blood, and that is Death," said old Hagar to her mistress, when she heard the news. "He has served us both alike, he has taken my son-in-law first and yours next."
Frowning haughtily, Madam Conway bade her be silent, telling her at the same time to see that the rooms in the north part of the building were put in perfect order for Mrs. Miller, who would probably come in the next vessel. In sullen silence Hagar withdrew, and for several days worked half reluctantly in the "north rooms," as Madam Conway termed a comparatively pleasant, airy suite of apartments, with a balcony above, which looked out upon the old mill-dam and the brook pouring over it.
"There'll be big doings when my lady comes," said Hagar one day to her daughter. "It'll be Hagar here, and Hagar there, and Hagar everywhere, but I shan't hurry myself. I'm getting too old to wait on a chit like her."
"Don't talk so, mother," said Hester. "Margaret was always kind to me. She is not to blame for being rich, while I am poor."
"But somebody's to blame," interrupted old Hagar. "You was always accounted the handsomest and cleverest of the two, and yet for all you'll be nothing but a drudge to wait on her and the little girl."
Hester only sighed in reply, while her thoughts went forward to the future and what it would probably bring her. Hester Warren and Margaret Conway had been children together, and in spite of the difference of their stations they had loved each other dearly; and when at last the weary traveler came, with her pale sad face and mourning garb, none gave her so heartfelt a welcome as Hester; and during the week when, from exhaustion and excitement, she was confined to her bed, it was Hester who nursed her with the utmost care, soothing her to sleep, and then amusing the little Theo, a child of two years. Hagar, too, softened by her young mistress' sorrow, repented of her harsh words, and watched each night with the invalid, who once, when her mind seemed wandering far back in the past, whispered softly, "Tell me the Lord's prayer, dear Hagar, just as you told it to me years ago when I was a little child."
It was a long time since Hagar had breathed that prayer, but at Mrs. Miller's request she commenced it, repeating it correctly until she came to the words, "Give us this day our daily bread"; then she hesitated, and bending forward said, "What comes next, Miss Margaret? Is it 'Lead us not into temptation?"
"Yes, yes," whispered the half-unconscious lady. "'Lead us not into temptation,' that's it." Then, as if there were around her a dim foreboding of the great wrong Hagar was to do, she took her old nurse's hand between her own, and continued, "Say it often, Hagar, 'Lead us not into temptation'; you have much need for that prayer."
A moment more, and Margaret Miller slept, while beside her sat Hagar Warren, half shuddering, she knew not why, as she thought of her mistress' words, which seemed to her so much like the spirit of prophecy.
"Why do I need that prayer more than anyone else?" she said at last. "I have never been tempted more than I could bear--never shall be tempted--and if I am, old Hagar Warren, bad as she is, can resist temptation without that prayer."
Still,