I have told you how lonely was my home; but yet that home was a refuge
and a protection to me until the morning of this long day that is past,
when I was expelled from it for ever! I was suddenly awakened in my bed
by--my father entered in anger--he called me--'
She hesitated, blushed, and then paused at the very outset of her
narrative. Innocent as she was, the natural instincts of her sex spoke,
though in a mysterious yet in a warning tone, within her heart, abruptly
imposing on her motives for silence that she could neither penetrate nor
explain. She clasped her trembling hands over her bosom as if to repress
its heaving, and casting down her eyes, continued in a lower tone:--
I cannot tell you why my father drove me from his doors. He has always
been silent and sorrowful to me; setting me long tasks in mournful
books; commanding that I should not quit the precincts of his abode, and
forbidding me to speak to him when I have sometimes asked him to tell me
of my mother whom I have lost. Yet he never threatened me or drove me
from his side, until the morning of which I have told you.
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