To escape from the presence of her parents was her next impulse, and she obeyed it.
Fully half an hour passed before calmness was restored to the mind of Fanny, and she could think with any degree of clearness.

From childhood, up to this period of her life, her mother had been her wise counsellor, her loving friend, her gentle monitor.

She had leaned upon her in full confidence--had clung to her in weakness, as the vine to its strong support.

And now, when she most needed her counsel, she shrunk from her, and feared to divulge the secret that was burning painfully into her heart.

And yet, she did not purpose to keep her secret; for that, her reason and filial love both told her, was wrong; while all the time a low, sweet, almost sad voice, seemed murmuring in her ear--"Go to your mother!" "I must, I will go to her!" she said, at last, firmly.