"It is yourself, Miss Merton."

"Me, sir! Why, what is the matter with me?"

"That you shall tell me, if you think me worthy of your confidence."

"Oh, thank you, sir. I have my little crosses, no doubt, like all the
world; but I have health and strength. I have my father."

"My child, you are in trouble. You were crying when I came in.

"Indeed I was not, sir!--how did you know I was crying?"

"When I came in you turned your back to me, instead of facing me,
which is more natural when any one enters a room; and soon after you
made an excuse for leaving the room, and when you came back there was
a drop of water in your right eyelash."

"It need not have been a tear, sir!"

"It was not; it was water. You had been removing the traces of tears."

"Girls are mostly always crying, sir; often they don't know for why,
but they don't care to have it noticed always."

"Nor would it be polite or generous; but this of yours is a deep
grief, and alarms me for you. Shall I tell you how I know? You often
yawn and often sigh; when these two things come together at your age
they are signs of a heavy grief; then it comes out that you have lost
your relish for things that once pleased you. The first day I came