"Something is wrong, darling," she said. "If you do not want to tell me, or think you ought not, remember I do not ask any questions; but you have never had a secret from me."
Lucia raised her mother's hand, and laid it on her forehead.
"I ought to tell you, mamma," she said, "and I want to; but yet I don't like."
"Why?"
"You will be so angry; no, not that, perhaps, but you will be shocked, and yet I could not help it."
"Help what? Do you know, Lucia, that you are really trying me now?"
"Oh, mamma, no! I am not worth caring so much about."
"Have you and Maurice quarrelled?"
"Maurice! No, indeed. He is the best friend anybody ever had."
"What is it, then?"