"I trembled in your presence. I said, I will never own her; she shall never know me."
"But I said and did nothing remarkable. I felt a little diffident at the thought of an introduction to strangers—that was all."
"I soon saw you were diffident. That was the first thing which reassured me. Had you been rustic, clownish, awkward, I should have been content."
"You puzzle me."
"I had reason to dread a fair outside, to mistrust a popular bearing, to shudder before distinction, grace, and courtesy. Beauty and affability had come in my way when I was recluse, desolate, young, and ignorant—a toil-worn governess perishing of uncheered labour, breaking down before her time. These, Caroline, when they smiled on me, I mistook for angels. I followed them home; and when into their hands I had given without reserve my whole chance of future happiness, it was my lot to witness a transfiguration on the domestic hearth—to see the white mask lifted, the bright disguise put away, and opposite me sat down—— O God, I have suffered!"
She sank on the pillow.
"I have suffered! None saw—none knew. There was no sympathy, no redemption, no redress!"
"Take comfort, mother. It is over now."
"It is over, and not fruitlessly. I tried to keep the word of His patience. He kept me in the days of my anguish. I was afraid with terror—I was troubled. Through great tribulation He brought me through to a salvation revealed in this last time. My fear had torment; He has cast it out. He has given me in its stead perfect love. But, Caroline——"
Thus she invoked her daughter after a pause.