She wore a plain brown linsey dress, that perfectly fitted her symmetrical form; and this rustic suit was relieved by a little linen collar that clasped her throat, and a pair of little white linen cuffs that bound her wrists.
The setting was plain enough, but the gem was a very rich and rare jewel, whoever might be destined to wear it.
Only for an instant she stood thus, like a bright and beautiful image, and then she suddenly darted across the room, sunk down beside the old lady's chair, and looking up into her face, said:
"Grandma! I know more of that awful tragedy than you think I do. Of course, in all these years, I have chanced to hear much from the talk of women and children seen in church or in school. And to-night I have heard too much from you, not now to be told more! What is all this mystery and horror connected with this anniversary of Hallow Eve? And—who am I?"
"You are my own darling child, Gem!" answered the old lady, in a trembling voice.
"I know that I am your foster-child, but that is all I, or any one else except you, seems to knew about me! But you know who I am, grandma! Now tell me—who am I?" she pleaded, taking the withered old hands within her own, and gazing imploringly up into the kind old eyes that looked compassionately down on hers.
"You are my pet, and my darling, and my blessing, Gem! That is enough for you to know!" answered the old lady, still in a tremulous tone.
"Am I that prison-born child? Am I the daughter of that poor lady who was crucified and cast out among human creatures? Am I? Am I?" persisted the young girl beseechingly, while Miss Tabby wept and Miss Libby moaned.
"Gem," said the aged woman gravely, and sorrowfully pressing the maiden's hands, "Gem, have I been a good grandma to you?"
"Oh, you have! you have!" answered the young girl, earnestly.