"Mama, why?"
"I trembled in your presence. I said I will never own her: she shall never know me."
"But I said and did nothing remarkable. I felt a little diffident at the thought of an introduction to strangers, that was all."
"I soon saw you were diffident; that was the first thing which reassured me: had you been rustic, clownish, awkward, I should have been content."
"You puzzle me."
"I had reason to dread a fair outside, to mistrust a popular bearing, to shudder before distinction, grace, and courtesy. Beauty and affability had come in my way when I was recluse, desolate, young, and ignorant: a toil-worn governess perishing of uncheered labour, breaking down before her time. These, Caroline, when they smiled on me, I mistook for angels! I followed them home, and when into their hands I had given without reserve my whole chance of future happiness, it was my lot to witness a transfiguration on the domestic hearth: to see the white mask lifted, the bright disguise put away, and opposite me sat downoh God! I have suffered!"
She sank on the pillow.
"I have suffered! None saw,—none knew: there was no sympathy—no redemption—no redress!"
"Take comfort, mother: it is over now."
"It is over, and not fruitlessly. I tried to keep the word of His patience: He kept me in the days
