friends, made her promise never to speak to me again, and made her
write this note about it. Look!" and she took a crumpled envelope
from her pocket.

The mother read the note in silence, and an expression of pain came
over her face. Erica, who was very impetuous, snatched it away
from her when she saw that look of sadness.

"Don't read the horrid thing!" she exclaimed, crushing it up in her
hand. "There, we will burn it!" and she threw it into the fire
with a vehemence which somehow relieved her.

"You shouldn't have done that," said her mother. "Your father will
be sure to want to see it."

"No, no, no," cried Erica, passionately. "He must not know; you
must not tell him, mother."

"Dear child, have you not learned that it is impossible to keep
anything from him? He will find out directly that something is
wrong."

"It will grieve him so; he must not hear it," said Erica. "He
cares so much for what hurts us. Oh! Why are people so hard and
cruel? Why do they treat us like lepers? It isn't all because of
losing Gertrude; I could bear that if there were some real reason
--if she went away or died. But there's no reason! It's all
prejudice and bigotry and injustice; it's that which makes it sting
so.