courage, Ellen entered her aunt's boudoir in the
morning, and again made her request with an earnestness that almost
startled Mrs. Hamilton, particularly as it was accompanied by a
depression of manner, which she now did not very often permit to obtain
ascendency. With affectionate persuasiveness she demanded the reason of
this extraordinary resolution, and surprise gave way to some
displeasure, when she found Ellen had really none to give. Her only
entreaty was that she might not be desired to go out till the next year.

"But why, my dear Ellen? You must have some reason for this intended
seclusion. Last year I fancied you wished much to accompany us, and I
ever regretted your delicate health prevented it. What has made you
change your mind so completely? Have you any distaste for the society in
which I mingle?"

Falteringly, and almost inaudibly, Ellen answered, "None."

"Is it a religious motive? Do your principles revolt from the amusements
which are now before you? Tell me candidly, Ellen. You know nothing
displeases me so much as mystery? I can forgive everything else, for
then I know our relative positions, and am satisfied you are not going
far wrong; but when every reason is studiously concealed, I cannot guess
the truth, and I must fancy it is, at least, a mistaken notion blinding
your better judgment. I did not expect a second mystery from you,
Ellen."

Mrs. Hamilton's expressive voice clearly denoted she was displeased, and
her niece, after two or three ineffectual efforts to prevent it, finally
burst into tears.

"I do not wish to be harsh with you, or accuse you unjustly," continued
her aunt, softened at the unaffected grief she beheld, "but if your
reason be a good one, why do you so carefully conceal it? You have been
lately so very open with me, and appeared to regard me so truly as your
friend, that your present conduct is to me not only a riddle, but a
painful reflection. Is it because your conscience forbids? Perhaps in
your solitary moments you have fancied that worldly amusements, even in
the moderate way in which we regard them, unfits us for more serious
considerations, and you fear perhaps to confess that such is your
reason, because it will seem a reproach to me. If such really be your
motive, do not fear to confess it, my dear girl; I should be the very
last to urge you to do anything that is against your idea of what is
right. To prove the fallacy of such reasoning, to show you that you