It was opened from
within, before she reached it, and a tall, florid woman, with smoothly
banded hair, stood there to receive her. Though she had a powerful
frame, she gave one at the outset an impression of weak gentleness, and
the hands she extended, albeit cordial, were somewhat limp. She wore
her bonnet still, though she had untied the strings and thrown them
back; and her ample figure was tightly laced under a sontag.
"Why, aunt Luceba!" cried Isabel, radiant. "I'm as glad as I can be.
When did you rain down?"
"Be you glad?" returned aunt Luceba, her somewhat anxious look relaxing
into a smile. "Well, I'm pleased if you be. Fact is, I run away, an'
I'm jest comin' to myself, an' wonderin' what under the sun set me out
to do it."
"Run away!" repeated Isabel, drawing her in, and at once peeping into
the stove. "Oh, you fixed the fire, didn't you? It keeps real well. I
put on coal in the morning, and then again at night."
"Isabel," began her aunt, standing by the stove, and drumming on it
with agitated fingers, "I hate to have you live as you do. Why under
the sun can't you come over to Saltash, an' stay with us?"
Isabel had thrown off her shawl and hat, and was standing on the other
side of the stove; she was tingling with cold and youthful spirits.
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