"What do you mean?" said I, quickly; I had an instinctive suspicion as she spoke. "Long days ago, before ever your papa knew my dear young lady, Mr. Osborne came a-courting to her," said Alice, "and if you'd have told that merry young gentleman what he was to come to, he'd have laughed in your face then; he did not choose for himself in those days to be living all by himself as he does now." "Mamma again," said I under my breath, with wonder and curiosity, "did she break _his_ heart too?" "To tell the truth I do not think she did, Miss Hester," said Alice, with a smile, "it's only a heart here and there, my dear, that breaks when it's crossed in love." "Alice!" cried I, horror-stricken at her want of feeling--for I had a very poor opinion of any heart which would not break instantly for such a weighty reason. "She did not break his heart, dear; she only disappointed him," said Alice, "and I never heard how it was that he took so much to learning and settled down here; but he never had any grudge at Miss Helen, though I can see he likes you the better for it, that you sometimes have a look like her sweet face." "She was my mother," said I doubtfully, "but it was cruel of her to marry papa, Alice. Why was it, I wonder, that so many people cared for her?" "It was because she deserved better love than she ever got in this world," said Alice, with a start; "why was it cruel of her to marry your papa, Miss Hester? It was cruel of him--she never gave him cause to doubt her, she waited on his will as if he had been a king; oh! my dear, your papa was hard upon my young lady, and all for a fancy of his own." "It has blighted his life, Alice," said I. "Your papa is my master, Miss Hester," said Alice, with some pride, "and you and I can only speak of him as his servant and his daughter should--but I would have you think upon your mamma sometimes--your dear, sweet, innocent young mother; she never did harm to any living creature; she was always a delight to look upon till--" "Till what, Alice?" "My dear, till _her_ heart broke." Alice moved away without saying another word; this was a perplexing new light upon my meditations, but I was very reluctant to receive it. If it should happen that my mother had been misconceived and misinterpreted--that she, after all, was the wronged person, and that my father was to blame, it might have made a great difference in the influences which just then were moulding my mind and life; but I rejected this unwelcome conclusion--I would not permit myself to be convinced of it. I clung over again to my father, and made my stand by him, and so went on, unconsciously determining and ripening for my fate.