erest motives; why not leave it to her discretion
to reveal to you any secret grief, if such there be, that preys
upon her; why add to that grief by any selfish indulgence of
over-susceptibility in yourself? My dear pupil, you are yet almost a
child; and they who have sorrowed may well be reluctant to sadden with a
melancholy confidence those to whom sorrow is yet unknown. This much,
at least, I may tell you,--for this much she does not seek to
conceal,--that Lady Vargrave was early inured to trials from which you,
more happy, have been saved. She speaks not to you of her relations, for
she has none left on earth. And after her marriage with your benefactor,
Evelyn, perhaps it seemed to her a matter of principle to banish all
vain regret, all remembrance if possible, of an earlier tie."

"My poor, poor mother! Oh, yes, you are right; forgive me. She yet
mourns, perhaps, my father, whom I never saw, whom I feel, as it were,
tacitly forbid to name,--you did not know him?"

"Him!--whom?"

"My father, my mother's first husband."

"No."

"But I am sure I could not have loved him so well as my benefactor,
my real and second father, who is now dead and gone. Oh, how well I
remember him,--how fondly!" Here Evelyn stopped and burst into tears.

"You do right to remember him thus; to love and revere his memory,--a
father indeed he was to you. But now, Evelyn, my own dear child, hear
me. Respect the silent heart of your mother; let her not think that her
misfortunes, whatever they may be, can cast a shadow over you,--you, her
last hope and blessing. Rather than seek to open the old wounds, suffer
them to heal, as they must, beneath the influences of religion and time;
and wait the hour when without, perhaps, too keen a grief, your mother
can go back with you into the past."

"I will, I will! Oh, how wicked, how ungracious I have been! It was but
an excess of love, believe it, dear Mr. Aubrey, believe it."

"I do believe it, my poor Evelyn; and now I know that I may trust in
you. Come, dry those bright eyes, or they will think I have been a hard
taskmaster, and let us go to the cottage."

They walked slowly and silently across the humble garden into the
churchyard, and there, by the old yew-tree, they saw Lady Vargrave.
Evelyn, fearful that the traces of her tears were yet visible, drew
back; and Aubrey, aware of what passed within her, said,--

"Shall I join your mother, and tell her of my approaching departure? And
pe