“Not here; let us go into another room.”

“Come, then.”

“Don’t leave me,” I begged, after she had arranged me comfortably.  She sat down by me with a fan.

“What happened while I was ill?”

She fanned rapidly for an instant, taking thought what to say.

“I shot Aspen, a few days after.”

“With your own hand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Penn protested, said I interfered with Providence.  Jesse added, also, that what had happened was ordained, and no mistake, and then I sent them both away.”

“And I am going at last, Alice; father will be here again in a few days.”

“You did not recognize Veronica, when they came.”

“Was she here?”

“Yes, and went the same day.  What great tears rolled down her unmovable face, when she stood by your bed!  She would not stay; the atmosphere distressed her so, she went back to Boston to wait for your father.  I could neither prevail on her to eat, drink, or rest.”

“What will you do, Alice?”

“Take care of the children, and manage the mills.”

“Manage the mills?”

“I can.  No wonder you look astonished,” she said, with a sigh.  “I am changed.  When perhaps I should feel that I have done with life, I am eager to begin it.  I have lamented over myself lately.”

“How is Ben?”

“He has been here often.  How strange it was that to him alone Veronica gave her hand when they met!  Indeed, she gave him both her hands.”

“And he?”

“Took them, bowing over them, till I thought he wasn’t coming up again.  I do not call people eccentric any more,” she said, faintly blushing.  “I look for a reason in every action.  Tell me fairly, have you had a contempt for me—­for my want of perception?  I understand you now, to the bone and marrow, I assure you.”

“Then you understand more than I do.  But you will remember that once or twice I attempted to express my doubts to you?”

“Yes, yes, with a candor which misled me.  But you are talking too much.”

“Give me more broth, then.”

CHAPTER XXII.

I was soon well enough to go home.  Father came for me, bringing Aunt Merce.  There was no alteration in her, except that she had taken to wearing a false front, which had a claret tinge when the light struck it, and a black lace cap.  She walked the room in speechless distress when she saw me, and could not refrain from taking an immense pinch of snuff in my presence.

“Didn’t you bring any flag-root, Aunt Merce?”

“Oh Lord, Cassandra, won’t anything upon earth change you?”