She had
leaned upon her in full confidence--had clung to her in weakness, as
the vine to its strong support. And now, when she most needed her
counsel, she shrunk from her, and feared to divulge the secret that
was burning painfully into her heart. And yet, she did not purpose
to keep her secret; for that, her reason and filial love both told
her, was wrong; while all the time a low, sweet, almost sad voice,
seemed murmuring in her ear--"Go to your mother!"
"I must, I will go to her!" she said, at last, firmly. "A daughter's
footsteps must be moving along dangerous ways, if she fears to let
her mother know the paths she is treading. Oh, mother!" and she
clasped her hands almost wildly against her bosom. "My good, wise,
loving mother!--how could I let a stranger come in between us, and
tempt my heart from its truth to you for a moment! Yes, yes, you
must know all, and this very hour."
Acting from this better state of mind, Fanny unlocked her door, and
was passing along one of the passages in the direction of her
mother's room, when she met Aunt Grace.
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