The gay, ringing laughter of her daughter interrupted her; the child
opened her large black eyes, and looked amused.

"You naughty child, you were not asleep," said Louise.

"No, mamma, I was not asleep; I was playing comedy."

"Ah! and who taught you to play comedy, you silly child?" said
Louise, tenderly.

The child looked earnestly before her for a few moments as children
are wont to do when a question surprises them.

"I believe, mamma," she said, slowly--"I believe I learned it from
you."

"From me, Camilla? When have you seen me act?"

"Oh, very often," she cried, laughing. "Just a few days ago, mamma,
don't you remember when we were laughing and talking so merrily
together, Prince Henry was announced, and you sent me into the next
room, but the door was open, and I saw very well that you made a sad
face, and I heard the prince ask you how you were, and you answered,
'I am sick, your highness, and how could it be otherwise, as I am
always sad or weeping?' Now, mother, was not that acting?"

Louise did not answer. Breathing heavily, she laid her hand upon her
heart, for she felt a strange sorrow and indescribable fear.