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'
Louisa stood looking at the pretty modest head, as it drooped
abashed before her, until it was raised again to glance at her
face. Then she asked:
'Did your father know so much himself, that he wished you to be
well taught too, Sissy?'
Sissy hesitated before replying, and so plainly showed her sense
that they were entering on forbidden ground, that Louisa added, 'No
one hears us; and if any one did, I am sure no harm could be found
in such an innocent question.'
'No, Miss Louisa,' answered Sissy, upon this encouragement, shaking
her head; 'father knows very little indeed. It's as much as he can
do to write; and it's more than people in general can do to read
his writing. Though it's plain to me.'
'Your mother!'
'Father says she was quite a scholar. She died when I was born.
She was;' Sissy made the terrible communication nervously; 'she was
a dancer.'
'Did your father love her?' Louisa asked these questions with a
strong, wild, wandering interest peculiar to her; an interest gone
astray like a banished creature, and hiding in solitary places.


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