ase he only
laughed good-naturedly, and went out, whistling like a mocking-bird, to
call the children round him.

Toward the more wayward and impulsive Emilia the good lady was far more
merciful. With all Aunt Jane's formidable keenness, she was a little apt
to be disarmed by youth and beauty, and had no very stern retributions
except for those past middle age. Emilia especially charmed her while
she repelled. There was no getting beyond a certain point with this
strange girl, any more than with Philip; but her depths tantalized,
while his apparent shallows were only vexatious. Emilia was usually
sweet, winning, cordial, and seemed ready to glide into one's heart as
softly as she glided into the room; she liked to please, and found it
very easy. Yet she left the impression that this smooth and delicate
loveliness went but an inch beyond the surface, like the soft, thin foam
that enamels yonder tract of ocean, belongs to it, is a part of it, yet
is, after all, but a bequest of tempests, and covers only a dark abyss
of crossing currents and desolate tangles of rootless kelp. Everybody
was drawn to her, yet not a soul took any comfort in her. Her very voice
had in it a despairing sweetness, that seemed far in advance of her
actual history; it was an anticipated miserere, a perpetual dirge, where
nothing had yet gone down. So Aunt Jane, who was wont to be perfectly
decisive in her treatment of every human being, was fluctuating and
inconsistent with Emilia. She could not help being fascinated by the
motherless child, and yet scorned herself for even the doubting love she
gave.

"Only think, auntie," said Kate, "how you kissed Emilia, yesterday!"

"Of course I did," she remorsefully owned. "I have kissed her a great
many times too often. I never will kiss her again. There is nothing but
sorrow to be found in loving her, and her heart is no larger than her
feet. Today she was not even pretty! If it were not for her voice, I
think I should never wish to see her again."

But when that soft, pleading voice came once more, and Emilia asked
perhaps for luncheon, in tones fit for Ophelia, Aunt Jane instantly
yielded. One might as well have tried to enforce indignation against the
Babes in the Wood.

This perpetual mute appeal was further strengthened by a peculiar
physical habit in Emilia, which first alarmed the household, but soon
ceased to inspire terror. She fainted very easily, and had attacks at
long intervals akin to f