But after I found out I had the same kind of blood in me that Mrs. General Rodman had in her, though I’m thankful it isn’t mentioned on the family’s tombstones, it didn’t seem half as big a thing as I thought.

I was ashamed of the way it had acted, and of the way it had treated my father.  He was too much of a gentleman to talk about his, whether high or low, and I know nothing about him.  But I adore his memory!  I am his child as well as Mary Alden’s, and that’s a thing my children are never going to forget.  Never.

And now the part I’m thinking of most is what was said about Miss Katherine and Dr. Parke Alden being sweethearts when they were young.  He has been away thirteen years, Mrs. Moon said, and Miss Katherine is now twenty-eight.  I know she is, because she told me so.

Thirteen from twenty-eight leaves fifteen, so she was fifteen when they had that fuss and he went off.  Fifteen was awful young to love hard and permanent; but Miss Webb says Miss Katherine was born grown and stubborn, and when she once takes a stand she keeps it.

I wonder what she took the stand with Uncle Parke for?  She is right quick and outspoken at times, and I bet he made her mad about something.

But she ought to have known he was a man, and not expected much.  I know my children’s father is going to make me so hopping at times I could shake him.  If he didn’t, he would be terrible stupid to live with, and nothing wears you out like stupidness.  I don’t really mind a scrap.  It’s so nice to make up.

But I believe that’s the reason Miss Katherine don’t get married.  Because in her secret heart Dr. Parke Alden is still her sweetheart.  I know in his secret heart she is still his.  She’s bound to be if she ever once was.

Glorious superbness!  Wouldn’t that be grand?  If they were to get married she would be my really, truly Aunt!  The very thought makes me so full of thrills I can’t sit still when it comes over me.

Oh, Mary Martha Cary, what a beautiful place this world could be!

XII

A TRUE MIRACLE

A secret isn’t any pleasure.  What’s the use of knowing a thing you can’t let anybody know you know?  If I can’t tell soon what I’ve heard about myself something is liable to happen.

Nearly three months have passed, and I haven’t told yet.  I’m still holding out, but it’s the most awful experience I ever had.

Another idea has come to me, and if I could see Miss Katherine I could tell whether to do it or not.  If she don’t come soon I will do it, anyhow.  I won’t be able to help it.

The girls say if I were a darkey they’d think I was seeking.  That’s because some days I’m so unnatural quiet and stay so much by myself.  I do that for safety, fearing otherwise I’d speak.

They don’t know what’s going on inside of me.  If they could see they’d find nothing but quiverings and questions, and if I don’t do anything really violent it’s all I ask.