How I wish in return you could solve a riddle for me.

Why do I _fear_ mamma so much, when I love her so very dearly?
When I do or even think anything that my conscience tells me is wrong, or at least not right, I absolutely tremble when I meet her eye, though she may know nothing for which to condemn me.

I have never heard her voice in anger, but its sorrowful tones are far more terrible.

I think sometimes, if I had been in Ellen's place eighteen months ago, I should have been as ill from fear alone, as she was from a variety of emotions, poor girl.

Yet why should I feel thus?
Caroline does not even understand me when I speak of such an emotion.
She says she is always very sorry when she has displeased mamma; but fear is to her unknown--we two certainly are complete opposites.