"Don't tease, auntie, but listen. I called on the little princess."
"Of course."
"And, Aunt Felicie, her father is lost at sea, and she is caring for all
those little ones, alone."
"Ah, the poor child! Is she then born to trouble, as the sparks do fly
upward? Are they very, very poor, Robert?"
"No; she said they had means, though it is probably but little, a
thousand or two at most; they seemed comfortable, though you know how
plainly they live; and, aunt, she is more beautiful than ever!"
"Yes, hers is of that kind of beauty that does grow, as her soul grows,
for it is from the within. Did she to me send any special word?"
"Yes, her 'love and reverence;' can't you imagine just how she said it,
with that little Priscilla touch which is so quaintly charming?" Then
he told of Morton's revolt, and the advice he had given Sara, at her
request; also the promise he had extorted.
"And now, aunt, she must have help; not only advice, but other things
perhaps."
"Never from you, Robare!" sharply. "Of what are you thinking?"
"You have always let me help in your charities, auntie," he said in a
wheedling tone; then, tossing back his head suddenly, "But this is
different, of course; only just think, Aunt Felicie, how the poor
child's hands are tied!"
"But the poor child's spirit is not, my Robare, and it is that of a
free-born fisher-lass, who would not be dependent, even in its thought;
leave Sara to me, my dear boy; I think it is that you may trust my
discretions, is it not?"
He leaned forward, caught the pretty white hand from its flying task,
crushed it against his lips, then, flushing hotly, rose from his chair,
and walked down the room, ashamed of the agitation he could not
suppress.
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