ount Araminta's pulse again, but Doctor Ralph
took her hand--a childish, dimpled hand that nestled confidingly in his.

"Listen, child," he said; "I want to talk to you. Your Aunt Hitty
hasn't done right by you. She's kept you in cotton when you ought to
be outdoors. You should have gone to school and had other children to
play with."

"And cats?"

"Cats, dogs, birds, rabbits, snakes, mice, pigeons,
guinea-pigs--everything."

"I was never in cotton," corrected Araminta, "except once, when I had a
bad cold."

"That isn't just what I mean, but I'm afraid I can't make you
understand. There's a whole world full of big, beautiful things that
you don't know anything about; great sorrows, great joys, and great
loves. Look here, did you ever feel badly about anything?"

"Only--only--" stammered Araminta; "my mother, you know. She was--was
married."

"Poor child," said Ralph, beginning to comprehend. "Have you been
taught that it's wrong to be married?"

"Why, yes," answered Araminta, confidently. "It's dreadful. Aunt
Hitty isn't married, neither is the minister. It's very, very wrong.
Aunt Hitty told my mother so, but she would do it."

There was a long pause. The little warm hand still rested trustingly
in Ralph's. "Listen, dear," he began, clearing his throat; "it isn't
wrong to be married. I never before in all my life heard of anybody
who thought it was. Something is twisted in Aunt Hitty's mind, or else
she's taught you that because she's so brutally selfish that she
doesn't want you ever to be married. Some people, who are unhappy
themselves, are so constituted that they can't bear to see anybody else
happy. She's afraid of life, and she's taught you to be.

"It's better to be unhappy, Araminta, than never to take any risks. It
all lies in yourself at last. If you're a true, loving woman, and
never let yourself be afraid, nothing very bad can ever happen to you.
Aunt Hitty has been unjust to deny you life. You have the right to
love and learn and suffer, to make great sacrifices, see great
sacrifices made for you; to believe, to trust--even to be betrayed.
It's your right, and it's been kept away from you."

Araminta was very still and her hand was cold. She moved it uneasily.

"Don't, dear," said Ralph, his voice breaking. "Don't you like to have
me hold your hand? I won't, if you don't want me to."

Araminta drew her hand away. She was frightened.

"I don't wonder you're afraid,"