She would then have had no reason to come and visit me the next morning at the Hall, as she did.
I was busy packing in my own room, enlivening my work by humming gay airs, just to make-believe to myself that I was very merry at the prospect of my visit to London.

The door opened quickly, and Rachel came in, walking on tiptoe, with her hand to her lips in trepidation.

Her face was as pale as snow, and large tears stood in her eyes.
"My mother, my mother!" she said like one talking in her sleep.

"I have seen my mother." "What do you mean, Rachel ?" I cried quite panic-stricken; for I thought that her mother was dead, and she must have seen a ghost.
"My mother--Mrs.Hollingford; you know her; you are her true daughter; I am nobody--a liar, an outcast.

Oh, Margery! she did not know me.