perhaps less coldly than
before, "if you will give me your attention for a short time, you will
learn the cause of my displeasure, which is perhaps at present
incomprehensible, unless, indeed, your own conscience has already
reproached you; but before I commence on any other subject, I must
request that you will make no more appointments with Miss Grahame
without my permission. This is not the first time you have done so; I
have not noticed it previously, because I thought your own good sense
would have told you that you were acting wrong, and contrary to those
principles of candour I believed you to possess."

"You were always prejudiced against Annie," answered Caroline, with
rising anger, for she had quite determined not to sit silent while her
mother spoke, cost what it might.

"I am not speaking of Annie, Caroline, but to you. The change in your
conduct since you have become thus intimate with her, might indeed
justify my prejudice, but on that I am not now dwelling. I do not
consider Miss Malison a fit chaperon for my daughter, and therefore I
desire you will not again join her in her drives."

"Every other girl of my station has the privilege of at least choosing
her own companions without animadversion," replied Caroline,
indignantly, "and in the simple thing of making appointments without
interference it is hard that I alone am to be an exception."

"If you look around the circle in which I visit intimately, Caroline,
you will find that did you act according to your own wishes, you would
stand more alone than were you to regard mine. I have done wrong in ever
allowing you to be as intimate with Miss Grahame as you are. You looked
surprised and angry when I mentioned the change that had taken place in
your conduct."

"I had sufficient reason for surprise," replied Caroline, impatiently,
"I was not aware that my character was so weak, as to turn and change
with every new acquaintance."

"Are you then the same girl you were at Oakwood?" demanded Mrs.
Hamilton, gravely yet sadly.

A sudden pang of conscience smote the heart of the mistaken girl at
these words, a sob rose choking in her throat, and she longed to have
given vent to the tears which pride, anger, and remorse were summoning,
but she would not, and answered according to those evil whisperings,
which before she had only indulged in secret.

"If I am changed," she answered passionately, "it is because neither you
nor papa are the same. At Oakwoo