I'm too young for it, as you often say, and I've found it out." "Then it is only weariness that makes you so pale and grave, and so bent on coming back here ?" Lillian was the soul of truth, and with a moment's hesitation answered slowly, "Not that alone, Mamma.

I'm worried about other things.

Don't ask me what, please." "But I must ask.

Tell me, child, what things?
Have you seen any one?
Had letters, or been annoyed in any way about--anything ?" My lady spoke with sudden energy and rose on her arm, eyeing the girl with unmistakable suspicion and excitement.
"No, Mamma, it's only a foolish trouble of my own," answered Lillian, with a glance of surprise and a shamefaced look as the words reluctantly left her lips.
"Ah, a love trouble, nothing more?
Thank God for that!" And my lady sank back as if a load was off her mind.

"Tell me all, my darling; there is no confidante like a mother." "You are very kind, and perhaps you can cure my folly if I tell it, and yet I am ashamed," murmured the girl.