he door than Amy dropped her edifying
occupation and came up to Elizabeth, who had sat wearily down on the
side of the bed.

"Why, Bess, what ails Mother? and what hast thou been doing? Thou
mayest tell me; I'll not make no mischief, and I'd love dearly to hear
all about it."

If experience had assured Elizabeth Foulkes of anything, it was that she
might as safely repeat a narrative to the town-crier as tell it to Amy
Clere.

"I have offenced Mistress," said she, "and I am sorry thereat: yet I did
but what I thought was my duty. I can say no more thereanent, Mistress
Amy."

"But what didst thou, Bessy? Do tell me."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Best not, Mistress Amy. Leave it rest, I
pray you, and me likewise, for of a truth I am sore wearied."

"Come, Bessy, don't be grumpy! let's know what it was. Life's monstrous
tiresome, and never a bit of play nor show. I want to know all about
it."

"Maybe there'll be shows ere long for you, Mistress Amy," answered
Elizabeth gravely, as a cold shiver ran through her to think of what
might be the consequence of her untold message. Well! Cissy's father
at any rate would be safe: thank God for that!

"Why will there? Hast been at one to-night?"

"No." Elizabeth checked herself from saying more. What a difference
there was between Amy's fancies and the stern realities she knew!

"There's no lugging nought out of thee!" said Amy with a pout. "Thou'rt
as close shut as an oyster shell."

And she went back to the mirror, and began to plait her hair, the more
conveniently to tuck it under her night-cap. Oh, how Elizabeth longed
for a safe confidant that night! Sometimes she felt as though she must
pour out her knowledge and her fears--to Amy, if she could get no one
else. But she knew too well that, without any evil intention, Amy would
be certain to make mischief from sheer love of gossip, the moment she
met with any one who would listen to her.

"Mistress Amy, I'm right weary. Pray you, leave me be."

"Hold thy tongue if thou wilt. I want nought with thee, not I," replied
Amy, with equal crossness and untruth, since, as she would herself have
expressed it, she was dying to know what Elizabeth could have done to
make her mother so angry. But Amy was angry herself now. "Get thee
abed, Mistress Glum-face; I'll pay thee out some day: see if I don't!"

Elizabeth's reply was to kneel down for prayer. There was one safe
Confidant, who could be relied upon