"Oh, my child! my child!" she cried, and sat down on her box sobbing violently, Mary infolded in her arms, and then they sat crying and rocking together.
"Papa does not love me as I do him," sobbed Mary, turning bitter for the first time. "He breaks my heart, and sends you away the same day, for fear you should comfort me."
"No, my dear," said Mrs. Easton; "you are wrong. He does not send me away; I go by my own wish."
"Oh, nurse, you desert me! then you don't know what has happened."
"Oh yes, I do; I know all about it; and I'm leaving because I can't do what he wishes. You see it is this way, Miss Mary—your father has been very good to me, and I am his debtor. I must not stay here and help you to thwart him—that would be ungrateful—and yet I can't take his side against you. Master has got reasons why you should not marry Walter Clifford, and—"
"He told me so himself," said Mary.
"Ah, but he didn't tell you his reasons."
"No."
"No more must I. But, Miss Mary, I'll tell you this. I know his reasons well; his reasons why you should not marry Walter Clifford are my reasons why you should marry no other man."
"Oh, nurse! oh, you dear, good angel!"