o be absent a short
time," he went on; "that it was merely that she wished a change. But it
was more than that; she has a plan for opening that old house of hers
near Cherry Valley, and living there."

"And _me_?" said Aunt Katrina, in angry amazement. "Does she cut herself
free from _me_ in that way? In _my_ state of health?"

"It appears so."

Aunt Katrina remained speechless. Pure dismay was now conquering every
other feeling.

"The truth is, Aunt Katrina, you have not been kind enough to Margaret,
ever."

"Kind!" ejaculated the lady.

"No. She has done everything for you for years, and you have constantly
illtreated her."

"Illtreated! Good heavens!"

"She has therefore decided--and I am not much surprised--that she would
rather have a home of her own."

"And you abet her in this?"

"Not at all, I think she had much better stay with you; I am only
explaining to you how she feels."

"I don't know that I care to understand Margaret _Cruger's_ feelings."

"Exactly; you don't. And therefore she is going."

Aunt Katrina was evidently struggling with her own thoughts. He left her
to the contest.

At last, "Poor child!" she said, sighing, as she gently pressed a
handkerchief to different parts of her disordered countenance--"poor
child!"

Winthrop waited for further developments; he knew they would come.

"It is natural that I should have been cold to her, perhaps, feeling as
I did so keenly how unqualified she was to make a congenial home for
Lanse. But, as you say, probably she cannot help it, it is her
disposition. And now, to think what she must be feeling!--she has, in
her way, a strict conscience, and to-day she faces the fact that, by her
own utter want of sympathy (which I suppose she really cannot help), she
has driven her husband away a _second_ time, sent him a _second_ time
into bad courses! I realize, indeed, that it is the moment when I ought
to do everything I can for her, when I should stifle my own feelings,
and treat her with the greatest tenderness; don't you agree with me?"

"Fully. But even then I don't know that you can induce her to stay."

"Really--the more I think of it, the more sorry I feel for her, she is
deeply to be pitied; I can imagine how crushed _I_ should have felt if
Peter had deserted me! But if he _had_ done so, I should have gone
immediately, of course, to stay with some older relative--it is the only
proper way. You might represent to Margaret how much better