wonder you were unhappy!'

'Nothing hitherto has been equal to it! said Laura. 'There was the
misery of his silence, and the anxiety that you, dearest, freed me from,
then no sooner was that over than this was confided to me. Think what I
felt when Eva put me in mind of a time when I argued in favour of
some such concealment in a novel! No, you can never guess what I went
through, knowing that he would think me weak, blameable, unworthy!'

'Nay, he blames himself too much to blame you.'

'No, that he must not do! It was my fault from the beginning. If I had
but gone at once to mamma!'

'Oh, I am so glad!' exclaimed Amy, suddenly.

'Glad?''

'I mean,' said Amy, looking down, 'now you have said that, I am sure you
will be happier.'

'Happier, now I feel and see how I have lowered myself even in his
sight?' said Laura, drooping her head and hiding her face in her hands,
as she went on in so low a tone that Amy could hardly hear her. 'I know
it all now. He loves me still, as he must whatever he has once taken,
into that deep, deep heart of his: he will always; but he cannot have
that honouring, trusting, confiding love that--you enjoyed and deserved,
Amy--that he would have had if I had cared first for what became me. If
I had only at first told mamma, he would not even have been blamed; he
would have been spared half this suffering and self-reproach; he would
have loved me more; Eva might not have been led astray, at least she
could not have laid it to my charge,--and I could lift up my head,' she
finished, as she hung it almost to her knees.

Her sister raised the head, laid it on her own bosom, and kissed, the
cheeks and brow again and again. 'Dearest, dearest Laura, I am so sorry
for you; but I am sure you must feel freer and happier now you know it
all, and see the truth.'

'I don't know!' said Laura, sadly.

'And at least you will be better able to comfort him.'

'No, no, I shall only add to his self-reproach. He will see more plainly
what a wretched weak creature he fancied had firmness and discretion.
Oh, what a broken reed I have been to him!'

'There is strength and comfort for us all to lean upon,' said Amy. 'But
you ought to go to bed. Shall I read to you, Laura? you are so tired, I
should like to come and read you to sleep.'

Laura was not given to concealments; that fatal one had been her only
insincerity, and she never thought of doing otherwise than telling the
whole of her conduct in Ireland