ildhood, and it still exists, though her
temper is more controlled, her disposition, more improved. The last few
years she has been thrown almost entirely with me, and not much above a
twelvemonth since she shrunk from the idea of confiding in any one as
she did in me."

"And while that confidence exists, my Emmeline, you surely have no
right to fear."

"But it is waning, Arthur. The last month I know, I feel it is
decreasing. She is no longer the same open-hearted girl with me as she
was so lately at Oakwood. She is withdrawing her confidence from her
mother, to bestow it on one whom I feel assured is unworthy of it."

"Nay, Emmeline, your anxiety must be blinding you; you are too anxious."

His wife answered him not in words, but she raised her expressive eyes
to his face, and he saw they were filled with tears.

"Nay, nay, my beloved!" he exclaimed, as he folded her to his bosom,
struck with sudden self-reproach. "Have my unkind words called forth
these tears? forgive me, my best love; I think I love my children, but I
know not half the depths of a mother's tenderness, my Emmeline, nor that
clear-sightedness which calls for disquietude so much sooner in her
gentle heart than in a father's. But can we in no way prevent the growth
of that intimacy of which I know you disapprove?"

"No, my dearest Arthur, it must now take its course. Pain as it is to
me, I will not rudely check my child's affections, _that_ will not bring
them back to me. She may, one day, discover her error, and will then
gladly return to that love, that tenderness, of which she now thinks but
lightly. I must endeavour to wait till that day comes, with all the
patience I can teach my heart to feel," she added, with a smile.
"Perhaps I am demanding more than is my due. It is not often we find
young girls willing to be contented with their mother only as a friend;
they pine for novelty, for companions of their own age, whom they
imagine can sympathise better in their feelings. A child is all in all
to a mother, though a parent is but one link in the life of a child; yet
my children have so long looked on me as a friend, that, perhaps, I feel
this loss of confidence the more painfully."

"But you will regain it, my Emmeline; our Caroline is only dazzled now,
she will soon discover the hollowness of Annie's professions of
everlasting friendship."

Mrs. Hamilton shook her head.

"I doubt it, my dear husband. The flattering warmth with which Annie