"I am not sleepy, mamma."
"Of course you shall tell me what you please, dearest. Is it a secret? Is it something I am not to repeat?"
"You must say how that ought to be, mamma. I shall not tell it to any one else."
"Well, dear?"
"Sit comfortably, mamma;—there; like that, and let me have your hand. It's a terrible story to have to tell."
"A terrible story, Grace?"
"I mean that you must not draw away from me. I shall want to feel that you are quite close to me. Mamma, while I was at Allington, Major Grantly came there."
"Did he, my dear?"
"Yes, mamma."
"Did he know them before?"