"`He is a poor specimen; he will never be much of a credit to me,' and by the look on her mother's face, she saw that she too pitied the evidently unloved boy. "This year, 1787, began the great changes in Edmee's life. They came in this way. "It was autumn. Several months had passed since the Marquis had been at Valmont, but now and then letters had come to the Countess which seemed to trouble and distress her. More than once Edmee had seen her mother with tears in her eyes, and at last one day, coming suddenly into her room and finding her crying, the little girl could no longer keep silent. "`Little mamma,' she said, as she sat down on her favourite stool at her mother's feet, and stroked and kissed the hand she had taken possession of, `I know it is not my place to ask you what you do not choose to tell me, but I am sure there is something the matter. I can see you have been crying.' "`But you have often seen me cry, my poor Edmee.' "`Yes, but not in that way. When you cry about dear papa it is sad, but not troubled in the same way.' "`That is true,' said her mother. `I _have_ a new trouble, my child. Many people, however, would think me very foolish for considering it a trouble. Besides, it is something I have always known would have to be sooner or later. I will promise to tell you all about it this evening, Edmee; I feel sure you will understand all I feel, though your are still only a little girl.' "`Not so very little, mamma. Ten past.' "The Countess smiled. "`Certainly, compared with the Edmee up there,' she replied, `you are beginning to look a very big girl. But I am going to be busy now, dear. I have a long letter to write. This evening I will tell you all about it. You are going now to Madame Germain for your embroidery lesson, are you not?' "`Yes, mamma. Nanette is waiting to take me. Mamma,' she said, then stopped and hesitated. "`What is it, Edmee?' "`Does mamma Germain know about what is troubling you?' "`Yes, dear; she does.' "`Might I--would you mind her telling me?' "The Countess considered a moment. "`You may ask her to tell you. I know she will say nothing that is not wise and sensible.' "`Thank you, mamma,' said Edmee, well pleased. `You see, dear mamma, if it is anything that troubles you, it will save you the pain of telling me,' she added, with a little womanly protecting air she sometimes used to her mother; `and then this evening we can talk it over, and I will do my best to console you. Good-bye; and good-bye, little Edmee,' she said, waving her hand to her own portrait, as she ran off; `take care of little mother till I come back.'