"Yes! I am Aunt Hetty. Oh! it's so long since I heard that name,"
sighing forth the thoughts it suggested; then, recovering herself,
and striving after the hard character she wished to assume, she
continued: "And to-day I heard a friend of yours, and of mine too,
long ago, was in trouble, and I guessed you would be in sorrow, so I
thought I would just step this far and see you."
Mary's tears flowed afresh, but she had no desire to open her heart
to her strangely-found aunt, who had, by her own confession, kept
aloof from and neglected them for so many years. Yet she tried to
feel grateful for kindness (however late) from any one, and wished
to be civil. Moreover, she had a strong disinclination to speak on
the terrible subject uppermost in her mind.
So, after a pause, she said--
"Thank you. I dare say you mean very kind. Have you had a long
walk? I'm so sorry," said she, rising with a sudden thought, which
was as suddenly checked by recollection, "but I've nothing to eat in
the house, and I'm sure you must be hungry, after your walk.
Pages:
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490