But,
directly after, I felt that very improbable, for who was there that
_would_ come such a night? Papa was up north with mamma; Nell and
Floy were visiting Aunt Edna and me, the only ones home, save the
servants. Neither of us had as yet a lover so devoted or so demented
as to come out, if he had anywhere to _stay in_.
On and past went the steps. Turning away, I drew down the blind, and
said: "Some one must be ill, and that was the doctor, surely: for no
one else would go out, only those from direst necessity sent."
A deep sigh escaped Aunt Edna's lips, and although partially shaded by
her hand, I could see the shadow on the beautiful face had deepened.
Why my aunt had never married was a mystery to me, for she was lovable
in every way, and must have been very beautiful in her youth.
Thirty-six she would be next May-day, she had told me. Thirty-six
seemed to me, just sixteen, a very great many years to have lived. But
aunt always was young to us; and the hint of her being an old maid was
always resented, very decidedly, by all her nieces.
"Aunt Edna," I said, "tell us a story--a love-story, please."
"Oh, little one, you have read _so_ many! And what can I tell you
more?" she answered, gently.
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