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Reade, Charles, 1814-1884

"White Lies"

"
"Yes, mamma; what is it?"
"Turn a little round, and let me see your face."
Rose complied; and began to feel a little uneasy.
"Perhaps you can guess what I am going to say to you?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, I am going to put a question to you."
"With all my heart, dear mamma."
"I invite you to explain to me the most singular, the most unaccountable
thing that ever fell under my notice. Will you do this for your mother?"
"O mamma! of course I will do anything to please you that I can; but,
indeed, I don't know what you mean."
"I am going to tell you."
The old lady paused. The young one, naturally enough, felt a chill of
vague anxiety strike across her frame.
"Rose," said the old lady, speaking very gently but firmly, and leaning
in a peculiar way on her words, while her eye worked like an ice gimlet
on her daughter's face, "a little while ago, when my poor Raynal--our
benefactor--was alive--and I was happy--you all chilled my happiness by
your gloom: the whole house seemed a house of mourning--tell me now why
was this."
"Mamma!" said Rose, after a moment's hesitation, "we could hardly be
gay.


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