"Marry me! I never thought of that," said the girl, lifting her face all in a glow from her hands, "but he will live here always, and so will I. Morning and night, and all day long I shall see him, hear his music, watch the changes of his beautiful, beautiful face. You may grow old as fast as you like, you and uncle Nat; I can support you, he will teach me to paint pictures, and we can sell them in the city. Besides, Joseph can make music on the violin, and I have learned to write it out on paper. The rich people in New York will give money for music and pictures like his, I know; you shall not work so hard after this, aunt Hannah; and as for uncle Nat, he shall snooze in his easy-chair all day long if he likes."
Aunt Hannah shook her head, and a mist stole over her spectacles. She was getting very childish in her old age, that stern old maid.
"You are a nice girl, Mary," she said, "and mean right, I know. But Joseph will never be content to let you support him if you had the strength. He is very manly and proud with all his softness."
"I know it, aunt, but then remember I am like his sister."
"But sisters do not support their brothers, and men do not like to take favors where they ought to give them."
"Oh! aunt Hannah, you make me so unhappy. What difference can it make which does the work where two people love each other?"
"This," answered the old maid; "women were born to look upward with their hearts and cling to others for support—men were made to give this support. You cannot change places and be happy!"
"I see, I see," murmured Mary Fuller, thoughtfully, "but Joseph will get well again; only think how much better he is since he came to the Old Homestead."
That moment Joseph came in from the garden, where he had been walking by himself, for the day was fine, and he loved to gratify his eye for colors, even among the vegetable beds and coarse garden flowers, and had been quietly enjoying them till the dusk drove him in-doors.
Mary looked toward him wistfully. She remembered that for some days he had seemed sad and preoccupied, going alone by himself and drawing only sad strains from his violin.