"Mistaken? as to—to—Oh, Hannah! how am I mistaken?" asked the countess, with sudden eagerness, perhaps with sudden hope.
"If you will compose yourself, my lady, and come and sit down, I will tell you the truth, as I have told it to everybody."
Lady Hurstmonceux went and dropped into her chair, and gazed at Hannah with breathless interest.
Hannah drew another forward and sat down opposite to the countess.
"Now then," said Berenice eagerly.
"My lady, what I have to tell is soon said. My sister was buried in her wedding-ring. Her son was born in wedlock."
The Countess of Hurstmonceux started to her feet, clasped her hands and gazed into Hannah's very soul! The light of an infinite joy irradiated her face.
"Is this true?" she exclaimed.
"It is true."
"Then I have been mistaken! Oh, how widely mistaken! Thank Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven!"