“Then you are in care. Bless you, it is not the same face--to a stranger, belike, but not to the one that suckled you. Why, there is next door to a wrinkle on your pretty brow, and a little hollow under your eye, and your face is drawn like, and not half the color. You are in trouble or grief of some sort, Miss Lucy; and--who knows?--mayhap you be come to tell it your poor old nurse. You might go to a worse part. Ay! what touches you will touch me, my nursling dear, all one as if it was your own mother.” “Ah! _you_ love me,” cried Lucy; “I don't know why you love me so; I have not deserved it of you, as I have of others that look coldly on me. Yes, you love me, or you would not read my face like this. It is true, I am a little--Oh, nurse, I am unhappy;” and in a moment she was weeping and sobbing in Mrs. Wilson's arms. The Amazon sat down with her, and rocked to and fro with her as if she was still a child. “Don't check it, my lamb,” said she; “have a good cry; never drive a cry back on your heart”; and so Lucy sobbed and sobbed, and Mrs. Wilson rocked her. When she had done sobbing she put up a grateful face and kissed Mrs. Wilson. But the good woman would not let her go. She still rocked with her, and said, “Ay, ay, it wasn't for nothing I was drawed so to go to your house that day. I didn't know you were there; but I was drawed. I WAS WANTED. Tell me all, my lamb; never keep grief on your heart; give it a vent; put a part on't on me; I do claim it; you will see how much lighter your heart will feel. Is it a young man?” “Oh no, no; I hate young men; I wish there were no such things. But for them no dissension could ever have entered the house. My uncle and aunt both loved me once, and oh! they were so kind to me. Yes; since you permit me, I will tell you all.” And she told her a part. She told her the whole Talboys and Hardie part. Mrs. Wilson took a broad and somewhat vulgar view of the distress. “Why, Miss Lucy,” said she, “if that is all, you can soon sew up their stockings. You don't depend on _them,_ anyways: you are a young lady of property.” “Oh, am I?” “Sure. I have heard your dear mother say often as all her money was settled on you by deed. Why, you must be of age, Miss Lucy, or near it.” “The day after to-morrow, nurse.” “There now! I knew your birthday could not be far off. Well, then, you must wait till you are of age, and then, if they torment you or put on you, 'Good-morning,' says you; 'if we can't agree together, let's agree to part,' says you.” “What! leave my relations!!” “It is their own fault. Good friends before bad kindred! They only want to make a handle of you to get 'em rich son-in-laws. You pluck up a sperrit, Miss Lucy. There's no getting through the world without a bit of a sperrit. You'll get put upon at every turn else; and if they don't vally you in that house, why, off to another; y'ain't chained to their door, I do suppose.”