r gentle monitor. She had
leaned upon her in full confidence--had clung to her in weakness, as
the vine to its strong support. And now, when she most needed her
counsel, she shrunk from her, and feared to divulge the secret that
was burning painfully into her heart. And yet, she did not purpose
to keep her secret; for that, her reason and filial love both told
her, was wrong; while all the time a low, sweet, almost sad voice,
seemed murmuring in her ear--"Go to your mother!"

"I must, I will go to her!" she said, at last, firmly. "A daughter's
footsteps must be moving along dangerous ways, if she fears to let
her mother know the paths she is treading. Oh, mother!" and she
clasped her hands almost wildly against her bosom. "My good, wise,
loving mother!--how could I let a stranger come in between us, and
tempt my heart from its truth to you for a moment! Yes, yes, you
must know all, and this very hour."

Acting from this better state of mind, Fanny unlocked her door, and
was passing along one of the passages in the direction of her
mother's room, when she met Aunt Grace.

"Oh! child! child! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed the aunt,
catching hold of her, and looking intently into her pale face.
"Come, now, tell me all about it--that's a dear, good girl."

"Tell you about what, Aunt Grace?" said Fanny, with as much firmness
as she could assume, trying, as she spoke, to disengage herself from
the firm grasp with which she was held.

"About all this matter that troubles you. Why, dear me! you look
just as if you'd come out of a spell of sickness. What is it, dear?
Now do tell your aunty, who loves you just as well as if you were
her own child. Do, love."

And Aunt Grace tried to draw the head of Fanny close to her bosom.
But her niece struggled to be free, answering, as she did so--

"Don't question me now, Aunt Grace, please. Only let me go to
mother. I want to see her."

"She is not in her room," said Miss Markland.

"Are you certain?"

"Oh, yes. I have just come from there."

"Where is she, then?"

"In the library, with your father."

Without a word more, Fanny turned from her aunt, and, gliding back
to her own chamber, entered, and closed the door.

"Oh, dear, dear, dear! What does ail the child?" almost sobbed Aunt
Grace, wringing her hands together, as she stood, with a bewildered
air, gazing upon the door through which the form of her niece had
just passed. "Something is the matter--somethin