"So happy," cried the youth, flushing red to the temples, "so happy that I dare not think of it."
"And you, Mary Fuller?" she questioned, moving close to the shrinking girl, and speaking in a low voice, impelled to gentleness by womanly compassion.
"Oh, do not ask me, dear, dear aunt! you know how it is with me, I have not dared to think of this."
Aunt Hannah bent down, and kissed that portion of the burning forehead which Mary's hands had left uncovered.
Mary started, and lifted her moist eyes in amazement. Scarcely in her life had she seen that cold woman kiss any one before.
Aunt Hannah looked kindly into her eyes, and laying a hand on her head, addressed Joseph.
"This child is not beautiful, my son," she said, "but she has something in her face, this moment, worth all the beauty in the world."
"I know it; I feel the sunshine of her presence," answered the youth.
"It is this that troubles her; she fears that, in your love for beautiful things, she will not always please you."
Joseph reached forth his arms and drew the shrinking girl to his bosom.