Edward, with eager willingness, communicated all he knew, though, from his being so constantly with his mother, and Ellen so much left with her father and herself, that all was little enough; adding, however, that after her very dangerous illness, when she was eight years old, he perfectly well remembered hearing some celebrated physician say to his father she would probably feel the effects of it all her life. "It was a very long time before mamma permitted me to see her," added Edward, "and when I did, I remember being almost frightened, she was so altered, so pale, and thin, and weak; and then she was very ill after poor papa's death; but since then she has never complained, and never kept her bed; but I know she is often in pain, for when I have touched her forehead sometimes, it has burnt my hand like fire." This childish explanation certainly told Mrs. Hamilton more than she had known before; but that Ellen had witnessed the fearful scene of her father's death was still concealed. Edward, as he grew older, though he did not know why, seemed to shrink from the subject, particularly that he had been at a ball the same awful night. A few days afterward, as Mrs. Hamilton was crossing the large hall on her way to the school-room--for so, spite of Percy's determination that it should receive the more learned and refined appellation of studio, it was still called--she overheard Caroline's voice, exclaiming in angry impatience-- "Indeed, I shall not, I have enough to do with my own lessons, without attending to other people's. It is your idleness, Ellen, not the difficulty of your lesson; for I am sure it is easy enough." "For shame, Caroline!" was Emmeline's indignant reply "She is not idle, and I am sure her lesson is not so easy; I wish I could explain it properly." "You know Miss Harcourt herself said she was careless or idle to-day, and she must know. I am not going to lose my hour of recreation to help those who won't help themselves." "How can you be so ill-natured, so unkind!" began Emmeline; but Ellen's beseeching voice interrupted her-- "Do not quarrel with your sister on my account, dearest Emmeline; I dare say I am very stupid, but my head does feel confused to-day; pray do not mind me, dear Emmy; go with Caroline, aunt Emmeline will not like your remaining in." Caroline had already quitted the room, and in her haste ran against her mother, who she instantly perceived had heard all she said. With a deep blush, she turned as to re-enter the school-room, but Mrs. Hamilton stopped her-- "No," she said, gravely, "if you are only to act kindly for fear of my reproof, it will do no good either to yourself or Ellen. I could scarcely have believed it possible you should so have spoken, had I not heard it. Go and amuse yourself as you intended; I rather think had you given up a little of your time to help your cousin, you would have experienced more real pleasure than you will now feel all day."