hat I never can imagine them
to have been monopolized by one. Beside, I thought as you were
never--" Kate paused, and Aunt Mabel continued the sentence.

"I never married, you would say, Kate, and thus it follows that I
never loved. Well, perhaps not; I may be, as you think, an exception;
at least I am not going to trouble you with antiquated love passages,
that, like old faded pictures, require a good deal of varnishing to be
at all attractive. But, I confess, I like not to hear so young a girl
ridiculing what is, despite the sickly sentiment that so often
obscures it, the purest and noblest evidence of our higher nature."

"Oh, you don't understand me, Aunt Mable! I laugh at the absurdity of
the stories. Look at this, for instance, where a gentleman falls in
love with a shadow. Now I see no substantial _foundation_ for such an
extravagant passion as that. Here is another, who is equally smitten
with a pair of French gaiters. Now I don't pretend to be over
sensible, but I do not think such things at all natural, or likely to
occur; and if they did, I should look upon the parties concerned as
little less than simpletons. But a real, true-hearted love story, such
as 'Edith Pemberton,' or Mrs. Hall's 'Women's Trials,' those I _do_
like, and I sympathize so strongly with the heroines that I long to be
assured the incidents are true. If I could only hear one _true_ love
story--something that I knew had really occurred--then it would serve
as a kind of text for all the rest. Oh! how I long to hear a real
heart-story of actual life!"

Kate grew quite enthusiastic, and Aunt Mable, after pausing a few
minutes, while a troubled smile crossed her face, said, "Well, Kate,
_I_ will tell you a love story of real life, the truth of which I can
vouch for, since I knew the parties well. You will believe me, I know,
Kate, without requiring actual name and date for every occurrence.
There are no extravagant incidents in this 'owre true tale,' but it is
a story of the heart, and such a one, I believe, you want to hear."

Kate's eyes beamed with pleasure, as kissing her aunt's brow, and
gratefully ejaculating "dear, kind Aunt Mable!" she drew a low ottoman
to her aunt's side, and seated herself with her head on her hand, and
her blooming face upturned with an expression of anticipated
enjoyment. I wish you could have seen Aunt Mable, as she sat in the
soft twilight of that summer evening, smiling fondly on the young,
bright girl at her