"Not at all, Lizzie; it is I who am inconsiderate in keeping you awake. I will say goodnight."
"No, no," cries Lizzie, understanding instinctively the woman's need for sympathy, "don't go, or I shall think you are angry. You were going to speak to me."
The girl raises her arm, and draws Mrs. Lenoir's head to her pillow. "Remember, I have no mother." She presses her lips to Mrs. Lenoir's face, which is wet with tears. "Mrs. Lenoir, you have been crying."
"It is nothing, Lizzie; I often cry when I am alone."
"But you are not alone now; I am with you, and I love you."
"It is kind of you to say so; you are in the mood to love, and to believe all things fair and good."
"And do not you believe so, Mrs. Lenoir?"
"Once I did. There was a time----" What reminiscence was in the speaker's mind remained there unexpressed. "Lizzie, you lost your mother when you were a child."
"Yes."
"How old were you when she died?"