"What's troubling you, dear?"
"Will"--the girl's voice shook--"Will, that was Aunt Jane's house. That
old lady--told me."
"Aunt Jane?"
"Yes, yes--the little gray-haired woman that came to live with us two
months ago. You know her."
"Why, y-yes; I think I've--seen her."
The girl winced, as from a blow.
"Will, don't! I can't bear it," she choked. "It only shows how we've
treated her--how little we've made of her, when we ought to have done
everything--everything to make her happy. Instead of that, we were
brutes--all of us!"
"Belle!"--the tone was an indignant protest.
"But we were--listen! She lived in that house all her life till last
year. She never went anywhere or did anything. For twenty years she
lived with an old man who had lost his mind, and she tended him like a
baby--only a baby grows older all the time and more interesting, while
he--oh, Will, it was awful! That old lady--told me."
"By Jove!" exclaimed the young fellow, under his breath.
"And there were other things," hurried on the girl, tremulously. "Some
way, I never thought of Aunt Jane only as old and timid; but she was
young like us, once. She wanted to go away to school--but she couldn't
go; and there was some one who--loved her--once--later, and she sent
him--away.
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