Ruth," she said, speaking after a fashion which was frequent with
her, with an exaggerated motion of the lips, "I shall be obliged to you
if you will accompany me to the house."

"Certainly, aunt," the girl answered, and placing an arm around her
shoulders, walked away with her. "There is something the matter, dear.
What is it?"

"There is nothing the matter," said the old lady, coldly.

"There is something serious the matter," said Ruth. They were in the
house by this time, and sheltered from observation. "You are trembling
and your hands are cold. Let me get you a glass of wine."

Aunt Rachel stood erect before her, and answered with frozen rebuke,

"In my young days girls were not encouraged to contradict their seniors.
I have said there is nothing the matter."

Ruth bent forward and took the two cold, dry little hands in her own
warm grasp, and looked into her aunt's eyes with tender solicitude. The
hands were suddenly snatched away, and Aunt Rachel dropped into a seat,
and without preface began to cry. Ruth knelt beside her, twining a firm
arm and supple hand about her waist, and drawing down her head softly
until its gray curls were pressed against her own ripe cheek. Not a word
was spoken, and in five minutes the old maid's tears were over.

"Say nothing of this, my dear," she said, as she kissed Ruth, and began
to smooth her ruffled ribbons and curls. Her manner was less artificial
than common, but the veneer of affectation was too firmly fixed to be
peeled off at a moment's notice. "We are all foolish at times. You
will find that out for yourself, child, as you grow older. I have been
greatly disturbed, my dear, but I shall not again permit my equilibrium
to be shaken by the same causes. Tell me, child, is Mr. Ezra Gold often
to be found here?"

"Not often," said Ruth; "he seems scarcely ever to move from home."

"I am glad to know it," said Aunt Rachel. "I cannot permit myself to
move in the same society with Mr. Ezra Gold."

"We all like him very much," Ruth answered, tentatively.

"Ah!" said Aunt Rachel, pinching her lips and nodding. "You do not know
him. _I_ know him. A most despicable person. They will tell you that I
am a little flighty."

"My dear aunt! What nonsense!"

"It is not nonsense, and you know it. I _am_ a little flighty--at times.
And I owe that to Mr. Ezra Gold. I owe a great deal to Mr. Ezra Gold,
and that among it. Now, dear, not a word of this to anybody. Will you
tell dear