her,--the way in which Lady Mary would assert that 'Mamma used
always to say this of you; mamma always knew that you would think
so and so; mamma used to say that you had told her'. It was the
feeling thus conveyed, that the mother who was now dead had in her
daily dealings with her own child spoke of her as her nearest
friend, which mainly served to conquer the deference of manner
which she had assumed.

Then gradually there came confidences,--and at last absolute
confidence. The whole story of Mr Tregear was told. Yes; she loved
Mr Tregear. She had given him her heart, and had told him so.

'Then, my dear, your father ought to know about it,' said Mrs
Finn.

'No; not yet. Mamma knew it.'

'Did she know all that you have told me?'

'Yes; all. And Mr Tregear spoke to her, and she said that papa
ought not to be told quite yet.' Mrs Finn could not but remember
that the friend she had lost was not, among women, the one best
able to give a girl good counsel in such a crisis.

'Why not yet, dear?'

'Well, because-. It is very hard to explain. In the first place,
because Mr Tregear himself does not wish it.'

'That is a very bad reason; the worst in the world.'