She was not ready yet to divulge her plans for her mistress's relief, and the question had taken her unawares.

"He never forgets, my lady, what he owes your people," she answered at last.

"And when he saw you, he was so sorry for you he was all shrivelled up." She had the mass of blonde hair in her fingers now, the comb in hand prepared to straighten out the tangle.
For a moment Lady Barbara lay still, then turning her cheek, her eyes fixed on Martha's, she said in firmer tones: "You are to tell me the truth, you know; that is why I sent for you." "I have told it, my lady." "And you are keeping nothing back ?" "Nothing." The thin hand crept out and grasped the nurse's wrist.
"Then you are sure your brother does not despise me, Martha ?" "MY LADY! How can you say such a thing!" exclaimed Martha, dropping the comb.
"Well, everybody else does--everybody I know--and a great many I never saw and who never saw me.

And now about yourself--and you must tell me frankly--do you hate me, Martha ?" "Hate you, you poor Lamb"-- tears were now choking her--"you, whom I held in my arms ?--Oh, don't talk that way to me--I can't stand it, my lady! Ever since you were a child, I--" "Yes, Martha, that is one reason for my asking you.

You did love me as a child--but do you love me as a woman?
A child is forgiven because it knows no better; a woman DOES know.