t
necessary to collect herself before speaking.

'Auntie dear, will you let me see that letter? Oh, my dear, dear Auntie,
don't think I mistrust you that I ask it. I do because I love you, and
because I want to love you more if it is possible to do so.' Miss Rowly
handed her the letter. She rose from the arm of the chair and stood
beside the table as though to get better light from the candle than she
could get from where she had sat.

She read slowly and carefully to the end; then folded up the letter and
handed it to her aunt. She came back to her seat on the edge of the
chair, and putting her arms round her companion's neck looked her
straight in the eyes. The elder woman grew embarrassed under the
scrutiny; she coloured up and smiled in a deprecatory way as she said:

'Don't look at me like that, darling; and don't shake your head so. It
is all right! I told you I had my reasons, and you said you would trust
me. I have only done what I thought best!'

'But, Auntie, you have paid away more than half your little fortune. I
know all the figures. Father and uncle told me everything. Why did you
do it? Why did you do it?' The old woman held out her arms as she said:

'Come here, dear one, and sit on my knee as you used to when you were a
child, and I will whisper you.' Stephen sprang from her seat and almost
threw herself into the loving arms. For a few seconds the two, clasped
tight to each other's heart, rocked gently to and fro. The elder kissed
the younger and was kissed impulsively in return. Then she stroked the
beautiful bright hair with her wrinkled hand, and said admiringly:

'What lovely hair you have, my dear one!' Stephen held her closer and
waited.

'Well, my dear, I did it because I love you!'

'I know that, Auntie; you have never done anything else my life!'

'That is true, dear one. But it is right that I should do this. Now you
must listen to me, and not speak till I have done. Keep your thoughts on
my words, so that you may follow my thoughts. You can do your own
thinking about them afterwards. And your own talking too; I shall listen
as long as you like!'

'Go on, I'll be good!'

'My dear, it is not right that you should appear to have paid the debts
of a young man who is no relation to you and who will, I know well, never
be any closer to you than he is now.' She hurried on, as though fearing
an interruption, but Stephen felt that her clasp tightened. 'We never
c