nd in her abject weakness coloured like a
detected schoolgirl.

"Will you give me the letters, mamma?" said Hazel, holding out her hand.

"Don't call me mamma like that, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne, with a weak
attempt at holding her position; but her daughter's outstretched hand
was sufficient to make her tremblingly take the letters from her pocket
and pass them across the table.

"You have opened them, mamma!" said Hazel.

"Once more, Hazel, I must beg of you not to call me _mamma_ like that!"
exclaimed Mrs Thorne. "I have always noticed that it is done when you
are angry."

"I said you have opened them, mamma!"

"Of course I have, my dear. I should not be doing my duty as your
mother if I did not see for myself who are the class of people with whom
you hold clandestine correspondence."

"You know, mother," said Hazel firmly, "that I should never think of
corresponding with any one without your approval."

"Then, pray, what do those letters mean?"

"I do not know," said Hazel quietly; and she opened them one by one, saw
their contents, read the notes that accompanied two, and then, letting
her face go down upon her hands she uttered a loud sob.

"Now, that is being foolish, Hazel," cried her mother. "Children, leave
the table! Or, no, it will be better that your sister and I should
retire. No; take your breakfasts into the other room, children, and I
will talk to your sister here."

"Don't cry, Hazy," whispered Cissy, clinging to her sister
affectionately.

"Don't speak cross to Hazel, please ma," whispered Mab.

"Silence, disobedient children!" cried the poor woman in tragic tones.
"Leave the room, I desire."

Hazel felt cut to the heart with sorrow, misery, and despair. The
increasing mental weakness of her mother, and her growing lack of moral
appreciation of right and wrong, were agonising to her; and at that
moment she felt as if this new trouble about the letters was a judgment
upon her for opening those addressed to her mother, though it was done
to save her from pain. To some people the airs and assumptions of Mrs
Thorne would have been food for mirth; but to Hazel the mental pain was
intense. Knowing what the poor woman had been previous to her troubles,
this childishness was another pang; and often and often, when ready to
utter words of reproach, she changed them to those of tenderness and
consideration.

"Now, Hazel," said Mrs Thorne with dignity, "I am waiting for an
explanation."