But now they think it shall profit thee, and may-be
save _Helen_ and _Edith_ from making any like blunder. And--well, I
have granted it. Only I stood out for one point--that I myself should
be the one to tell it you. Wait till thou hast heard that story, the
which I will tell thee to-morrow. And at after thou hast heard it,--
then tell me, _Milly_, whether I cared for thee this morrow, or whether
the hand that hath ruined thy life were the hand of _Joyce Morrell_."

"Oh, but you were cruel, cruel!" sobbed _Milly_. "I loved him so!"

"So did I, _Milisent_," saith Aunt _Joyce_ very softly, "long ere you
maids were born. Loved him so fondly, trusted him so wholly, clung to
him so faithfully, that mine eyes had to be torn open before I would see
the truth--that even now, after all these years, it is like thrusting a
dagger into my soul to tell you verily who and what he is. Ay, child, I
loved that man in mine early maidenhood, better than ever thou didst or
wouldst have done. Dost thou think it was easy to stand up to the face
that I had loved, and to play the avenging angel toward his perfidy? If
thou dost, thou mayest know much of foolishness and fantasy, but very
little of true and real love."

_Milisent_ seemed something startled and cowed. Then all suddenly she
saith,--"But, Aunt _Joyce_! He told me he were only of four-and-thirty
years."

Aunt _Joyce_ laughed bitterly.

"Wert so poor an innocent as to crede that, _Milly_?" saith she. "He is
a year elder than thy father. But I grant, he looks by far younger than
he is. And I reckon he 'bated ten years or so of what he looked. He
alway looked young," she saith, the softened tone coming back into her
voice. "Men with fair hair like his, mostly do, until all at once they
break into aged men. And he hath kept him well, with washes and
unguents."

It was strange to hear how the softness and the bitterness strave
together in her voice. I count it were by reason they so strave in her
heart.

"Wait till to-morrow, _Milly_," saith Aunt _Joyce_, arising. "Thou
shalt hear then of my weary walk through the thorns, and judge for
thyself if I had done well to leave thee to the like."

_Milly_ sobbed again, but methought something more softly.

"We were to have been wed o' _Sunday_ even," saith she, "by a _Popish_
priest, right as good as in church,--and then to have come home and won
_Father_ and _Mother_ to forgive us and bless us. Then all had been