Then followed the burning desire to recover the lost papers; with renewed impatience she would return to the secretary--till wearied and worn out she would sink into her chair disappointed and spiritless. "Ah, dearest Mamma," said Mabel, when having determined to remain at home, though the day was lovely, and favored a walk to the woods which had been agreed on, she entered the room, and found her seated, unoccupied, except by her own harassing thoughts. "You are unhappy, and will not tell me why. Is not this unkind?" "Unkind," echoed Mrs. Lesly, vacantly, "yes, I have been very unkind to you both." "No, no, dear Mamma, I do not mean that--not really unkind--only it vexes me to see you so sad." "I am sad indeed, my dear," returned Mrs. Lesly, in the same absent tone, "but I cannot find them, though they are all here." She stopped and glanced at the secretary wistfully, as if its old-fashioned drawers could speak if they liked. "What is lost?" said Mabel, "let me try and find it--I will look over all the papers if you will let me." "No, no, what I have lost I ought to find, it is my own indolence which has done it." "Yes, but do not think of that now, mamma, love, remember Doctor Parkinson said you were to be kept quite quiet, and now you are wandering about all day--only think how precious your health is to us, and how happy we all are when you are well." "Mabel, you kill me by these words--I feel that I am dying, but do not kill me before the time appointed." Mabel was silent, and stood looking at her mother with painful earnestness. "Do not look at me so, sweet child. Well may you be surprised when I have ruined you both." "Ruin! my own mother, what do you mean?" "Ah, you may well wonder at me," replied Mrs. Lesly, much excited, "how could I be so silly as to injure my own children." "Ah, now you are unkind," said Mabel, "why not tell me--is there a sorrow I have refused to bear--is it not my privilege to be sorrowful." Tears rolled down her heated cheeks, and Mrs. Lesly continued to regard her in silence. "Is it not unjust to me, your own child," continued Mabel, (for she had often before failed in obtaining her confidence,) "day after day you are wearying yourself with something you will not let me know, and injuring your health, which is more precious to us than any thing else--mamma--I did not know you could be so unkind." "Dear child, do not talk in this way, my only thought is of my children, and oh!" said she, turning her head towards the secretary, "if I could but find them." "What?" "The papers." "What papers? Do tell me, can any thing be worse than this concealment--you have always told me everything." "Ah, if I had," said Mrs. Lesly, with a sigh. "But do tell me now, I would rather hear any thing than see you suffer."