passionate fondness.

"Don't think me ungrateful," she said; "I am only ashamed." Her head
sank on her bosom; she burst into tears.

Lady Loring waited by her in silence. She well knew the girl's
self-contained nature, always shrinking, except in moments of violent
emotion, from the outward betrayal of its trials and its sufferings to
others. The true depth of feeling which is marked by this inbred modesty
is most frequently found in men. The few women who possess it are
without the communicative consolations of the feminine heart. They are
the noblest---and but too often the unhappiest of their sex.

"Will you wait a little before you go out?" Stella asked softly.

Lady Loring returned to the chair that she had left--hesitated for a
moment--and then drew it nearer to Stella. "Shall I sit by you?" she
said.

"Close by me. You spoke of our school days just now Adelaide. There was
some difference between us. Of all the girls I was the youngest--and you
were the eldest, or nearly the eldest, I think?"

"Quite the eldest, my dear. There is a difference of ten years between
us. But why do you go back to that?"

"It's only a recollection. My father was alive then. I was at first
home-sick and frightened in the strange place, among the big girls. You
used to let me hide my face on your shoulder, and tell me stories. May I
hide in the old way and tell _my_ story?"