She had the passions of her herd. 
    She spake some bitter truths that day,
  Indeed he caught one ugly word,
    Was scarcely fit for her to say!

  -Anon.

When breakfast was over Mr. Brudenell took his hat and walked down the Avenue to Seventh Street, and to the Farmer’s in search of Hannah.

In answer to his inquiries he was told that she was in, and he was desired to walk up to her room.  A servant preceding him, opened a door, and said: 

“Here is a ge’man to see you, mum.”

And Mr. Brudenell entered.

Hannah looked, dropped the needlework she held in her hand, started up, overturning the chair, and with a stare of consternation exclaimed: 

“The Lord deliver us! is it you?  And hasn’t the devil got you yet, Herman Brudenell?”

“It is I, Hannah,” he answered, dropping without invitation into the nearest seat.

“And what on earth have you come for, after all these years?” she asked, continuing to stare at him.

“To see you, Hannah.”

“And what in the name of common sense do you want to see me for?  I don’t want to see you; that I tell you plainly; for I’d just as lief see Old Nick!”

“Hannah,” said Herman Brudenell, with an unusual assumption of dignity, “I have come to speak to you about-Are you quite alone?” he suddenly broke off and inquired, cautiously glancing around the room.

“What’s that to you?  What can you have to say to me that you could not shout from the housetop?  Yes, I’m alone, if you must know!”

“Then I wish to speak to you about my son.”

“Your-what?” demanded Hannah, with a frown as black as midnight.

“My son,” repeated Herman Brudenell, with emphasis.

“Your son?  What son?  I didn’t know you had a son!  What should I know about your son?”

“Woman, stop this!  I speak of my son, Ishmael Worth-whom I met for the first time in the courtroom yesterday!  And I ask you how it has fared with him these many years?” demanded Mr. Brudenell sternly, for he was beginning to lose patience with Hannah.

“Oh-h!  So you met Ishmael Worth in the courtroom yesterday, just when he had proved himself to be the most talented man there, did you?  That accounts for it all.  I understand it now!  You could leave him in his helpless, impoverished, orphaned infancy to perish!  You could utterly neglect him, letting him suffer with cold and hunger and sickness for years and years and years!  And now that, by the blessing of Almighty God, he has worked himself up out of that horrible pit into the open air of the world; and now that from being a poor, despised outcast babe he has risen to be a man of note among men; now, forsooth, you want to claim him as your son!  Herman Brudenell, I always hated you, but now I scorn you!  Twenty odd years ago I would have killed you, only I didn’t want to kill your soul as well as your body, nor likewise to be hanged for you!  And now I would shy this stick of wood at your head only that I don’t want Reuben Gray to have the mortification of seeing his wife took up for assault!  But I hate you, Herman Brudenell!  And I despise you!  There! take yourself out of my sight!”

Mr. Brudenell stamped impatiently and said: 

“Hannah, you speak angrily, and therefore, foolishly.  What good could accrue to me, or to him, by my claiming Ishmael as my son, unless I could prove a marriage with his mother?  It would only unearth the old, cruel, unmerited scandal now forgotten!  No, Hannah; to you only, who are the sole living depository of the secret, will I solace myself by speaking of him as my son!  You reproach me with having left him to perish.  I did not so.  I left in your hands a check for several-I forget how many-thousand dollars to be used for his benefit.  And I always hoped that he was well provided for until yesterday, when Judge Merlin, little thinking the interest I had in the story, gave me a sketch of Ishmael’s early sufferings and struggles.  And now I ask you what became of that check?”

“That check?  What check?  What in the world do you mean?”

“The check for several thousand dollars which I gave you on the day of my departure, to be used for Ishmael’s benefit.”

“Well, Herman Brudenell!  I always thought, with all your faults, you were still a man of truth; but after this-

And Hannah finished by lifting her hands and eyes in horror.

“Hannah, you do severely try my temper, but in memory of all your kindness to my son-

“Oh!  I wasn’t kind to him!  I was as bad to him as you, and all the rest!  I wished him dead, and neglected him!”

“You did!”

“Of course!  Could anybody expect me to care more for him than his own father did?  Yes, I wished him dead, and neglected him, because I thought he had no right to be in the world, and would be better out of it!  So did everyone else.  But he sucked his little, skinny thumb, and looked alive at us with his big, bright eyes, and lived in defiance of everybody.  And only see what he has lived to be!  But it is the good Lord’s doings and not mine, and not yours, Herman Brudenell, so don’t thank me anymore for kindness that I never showed to Ishmael, and don’t tell any more bragging lies about the checks for thousands of dollars that you never left him!”

Again Herman Brudenell stamped impatiently, frowned, bit his lips, and said: 

“You shall not goad me to anger with the two-edged sword of your tongue, Hannah!  You are unjust, because you are utterly mistaken in your premises!  I did leave that check of which I speak!  And I wish to know what became of it, that it was not used for the support and education of Ishmael.  Listen, now, and I will bring the whole circumstance to your recollection.”

And Herman Brudenell related in detail all the little incidents connected with his drawing of the check, ending with:  “Now don’t you remember, Hannah?”

Hannah looked surprised, and said: 

“Yes, but was that little bit of dirty white paper, tore out of an old book, worth all that money?”

“Yes! after I had drawn a check upon it!”

“I didn’t know!  I didn’t understand!  I was sort o’ dazed with grief, I suppose.”

“But what became of the paper, Hannah?”

“Mrs. Jones lit the candle with it!”

“Oh!  Hannah!”

“Was the money all lost? entirely lost because that little bit of paper was burnt?”

“To you and to Ishmael it was, of course, since you never received it; but to me it was not, since it was never drawn from the bank.”

“Well, then, Mr. Brudenell, since the money was not lost, I do not so much care if the check was burnt!  I should not have used it for myself, or Ishmael, anyhow!  Though I am glad to know that you did not neglect him, and leave him to perish in destitution, as I supposed you had!  I am very glad you took measures for his benefit, although he never profited by them, and I never would have let him do so.  Still, it is pleasant to think that you did your duty; and I am sorry I was so unjust to you, Mr. Brudenell.”

“Say no more of that, Hannah.  Let us talk of my son.  Remember that it is only to you that I can talk of him.  Tell me all about his infancy and childhood.  Tell me little anecdotes of him.  I want to know more about him than the judge could tell me.  I know old women love to gossip at great length of old times, so gossip away, Hannah-tell me everything.  You shall have a most interested listener.”

“‘Old women,’ indeed!  Not so very much older than yourself, Mr. Herman Brudenell-if it comes to that!  But anyways, if Reuben don’t see as I am old, you needn’t hit me in the teeth with it!” snapped Mrs. Gray.

“Hannah, Hannah, what a temper you have got, to be sure!  It is well Reuben is as patient as Job.”

“It is enough to rouse any woman’s temper to be called old to her very face!”

“So it is, Hannah; I admit it, and beg your pardon.  But nothing was farther from my thoughts than to offend you.  I feel old myself-very old, and so I naturally think of the companions of my youth as old also.  And now, will you talk to me about my son?”

“Well, yes, I will,” answered Hannah, and her tongue being loosened upon the subject, she gave Mr. Brudenell all the incidents and anecdotes with which the reader is already acquainted, and a great many more with which I could not cumber this story.

While she was still “gossiping,” and Herman all attention, steps were heard without, and the door opened, and Reuben Gray entered, smiling and radiant, and leading two robust children-a boy and a girl-each with a little basket of early fruit in hand.

On seeing a stranger Reuben Gray took off his hat, and the children stopped short, put their fingers in their mouths and stared.

“Reuben, have you forgotten our old landlord, Mr. Herman Brudenell?” inquired Hannah.

“Why, law, so it is!  I’m main glad to see you, sir!  I hope I find you well!” exclaimed Reuben, beaming all over with welcome, as Mr. Brudenell arose and shook hands with him, replying: 

“Quite well, and very happy to see you, Gray.”

“John and Mary, where are your manners?  Take your fingers out of your mouths this minute,-I’m quite ashamed of you!-and bow to the gentleman,” said Hannah, admonishing her offspring.

“Whose fine children are these?” inquired Mr. Brudenell, drawing the shy little ones to him.

Reuben’s honest face glowed all over with pride and joy as he answered: 

“They are ours, sir! they are indeed! though you mightn’t think it, to look at them and us!  And Ishmael-that is our nephew, sir-and though he is now Mr. Worth, and a splendid lawyer, he won’t turn agin his plain kin, nor hear to our calling of him anythink else but Ishmael; and after making his great speech yesterday, actilly walked right out’n the courtroom, afore all the people, arm in arm long o’ Hannah!-Ishmael, as I was a-saying, tells me as how this boy, John, have got a good head, and would make a fine scollard, and how, by-and-by, he means to take him for a stoodient, and make a lawyer on him.  And as for the girl, sir-why, law! look at her! you can see for yourself, sir, as she will have all her mother’s beauty.”

And Reuben, with a broad, brown hand laid benignantly upon each little head, smiled down upon the children of his age with all the glowing effulgence of an autumnal noonday sun shining down upon the late flowers.

But-poor Hannah’s “beauty”!

Mr. Brudenell repressed the smile that rose to his lips, for he felt that the innocent illusions of honest affection were far too sacred to be laughed at.

And with some well-deserved compliments to the health and intelligence of the boy and girl, he kissed them both, shook hands with Hannah and Reuben, and went away.

He turned his steps towards the City Hall, with the intention of going into the courtroom and comforting his soul by watching the son whom he durst not acknowledge.

And as he walked thither, how he envied humble Reuben Gray his parental happiness!