I could not speak in answer to this appeal, dear Mary, but I clung weeping to mamma’s neck.  I never till that moment knew all my responsibility, how much depended on my conduct; but at that moment I inwardly vowed that never, never should my conduct injure that dear devoted mother, who endeavoured so fondly to soothe my grief, and check my bitter tears; who had done so much for me, who had devoted herself so completely to her children.  Mentally I resolved that nothing should be wanting on my part to render her character as exalted in the eyes of the world as it was in mine.  I could not bear to think how ungratefully I had acted, and I cried till I made my head and mamma’s heart ache; but I could not long resist her fond caresses, her encouraging words, and before she left me I could even smile.

“And what am I to say,” she said, with her usual playfulness, “of the sad complaints that I have received the last few days from Miss Harcourt, that she does not know what has come to you, from Mons. Deville and Signer Rozzi?  Now what am I to say or do to prove that this Mademoiselle Emmeline does like Italian, and is not ill, as our polite professors fancy? must I lecture as I did when she was an idle little girl, and liked her play better than her studies?  Suppose these gentlemen are asked, which in all probability they certainly are, what sort of pupils Mrs. Hamilton’s daughters are; they ought to be something out of the way, for we hear she has instructed them principally herself.  What answer will be given, what conclusions drawn, if you do not exert yourself and prove that you can learn as well, when you like, as your sister, and even quicker than your cousin?”

I felt so ashamed, dearest Mary, that I concealed my face on her shoulder, and would not even look up to promise amendment, for I felt I was not certain of myself; but when mamma spoke of my letter to you, and asked me if I still wished to send it, or if I would not write another, I made a desperate effort, and answered as well as I could—­

“I will not write again to Mary, dear mamma, till I have conquered all these silly and sinful feelings, and can write as usual; and to be quite sure of myself, that I may not break my resolution, I promise you that for six months I will not give myself the pleasure of addressing her, and if even at the end of that time you do not think I have sufficiently recovered my senses, which certainly appear to have deserted me, you shall increase at your will my time of probation; I deserve some privation for my ungrateful conduct, and the not writing to Mary now is the greatest I can think of.”  I tried to appear very heroic as I made this speech, but with all my efforts I completely failed.  Mamma looked at me a moment in surprise, but then, with more than usual fondness, she strained me to her heart, and I felt a tear fall on my cheek.