re in it is yours
too; so that Herr Steinmarc is your lodger. It is right that you
should understand all this; but I think too well of my own child to
believe that she will ever on that account be disobedient or unruly."

"That will never make a difference."

"No, Linda; I am sure it will not. Providence has been pleased to put
me in the place of both father and mother to you. I will not say that
I have done my duty by you--"

"You have, aunt, always," said Linda, taking her aunt's hand and
pressing it affectionately.

"But I have found, and I expect to find, a child's obedience. It is
good that the young should obey their elders, and should understand
that those in authority over them should know better than they can do
themselves what is good for them." Linda was now altogether astray in
her thoughts and anticipations. Her aunt had very frequently spoken
to her in this strain; nay, a week did not often pass by without such
a speech. But then the speeches would come without the solemn prelude
which had been made on this occasion, and would be caused generally
by some act or word or look or movement on the part of Linda of which
Madame Staubach had found herself obliged to express disapprobation.
On the present occasion the conversation had been commenced without
any such expression. Her aunt had even deigned to commend the general
tenor of her life. She had dropped the hand as soon as her aunt began
to talk of those in authority, and waited with patience till the gist
of the lecture should be revealed to her. "I hope you will understand
this now, Linda. That which I shall propose to you is for your
welfare, here and hereafter, even though it may not at first seem to
you to be agreeable."

"What is it, aunt?" said Linda, jumping up quickly from her seat.

"Sit down, my child, and I will tell you." But Linda did not reseat
herself at once. Some terrible fear had come upon her,--some fear
of she knew not what,--and she found it to be almost impossible to
remain quiet at her aunt's knee. "Sit down, Linda, when I ask you."
Then Linda did sit down; but she had altogether lost that look of
quiet, passive endurance which her face and figure had borne when she
was first asked to listen to her aunt's words. "The time in your life
has come, my dear, when I as your guardian have to think whether it
is not well that you should be--married."

"But I do not want to be married," said Linda, jumping up again.

"My dearest chi