side. You would have loved her, as did every one
who came within the sphere of her gentle influence; and yet she did
not possess the wondrous charm of lingering loveliness, that, like the
fainting perfume of a withered flower, awakens mingled emotions of
tenderness and regret. No, Aunt Mabel could never have been beautiful;
and yet, as she sat in her quiet, silver-gray silk gown, and kerchief
of the sheerest muslin pinned neatly over the bosom, there was an air
of graceful, lady-like ease about her, far removed from the primness
of old-maidism. Her features were high, and finely cut, you would have
called her proud and stern, with a tinge of sarcasm lurking upon the
lip, but for her full, dark-gray eyes, so lustrous, so ineffably sweet
in their deep, soul-beaming tenderness, that they seemed scarcely to
belong to a face so worn and faded; indeed, they did not seem in
keeping with the silver-threaded hair so smoothly parted from the low,
broad brow, and put away so carefully beneath a small cap, whose
delicate lace, and rich, white satin, were the only articles of dress
in which Aunt Mabel was a little fastidious. She kept her sewing in
her hand as she commenced her story, and stitched away most
industriously at first, but gradually as she proceeded the work fell
upon her lap, and she seemed to be lost in abstracted recollections,
speaking as though impelled by some uncontrollable impulse to recall
the events long since passed away.

"Many years since," said Aunt Mable, in a calm, soft tone, without
having at all the air of one about telling a story, "many years since,
there lived in one of the smaller cities in our state, a lady named
Lynn. She was a widow, and eked out a very small income by taking a
few families to board. Mrs. Lynn had one only child, a daughter, who
was her pride and treasure, the idol of her affections. As a child
Jane Lynn was shy and timid, with little of the gayety and
thoughtlessness of childhood. She disliked rude plays, and
instinctively shrunk from the lively companions of her own age, to
seek the society of those much older and graver than herself. Her
schoolmates nicknamed her the 'little old maid;' and as she grew older
the title did not seem inappropriate. At school her superiority of
intellect was manifest, and when she entered society the timid
reserve of her manner was attributed to pride, while her acquaintance
thought she considered them her inferiors."

"This, however, was far fr