I did not express any knowledge of the fact, but looked at her, waiting for more. A faint flush rose to her cheek; but her eyes looked clearly into mine.
"You know what he came for?"
"I suppose so, Jessie; and that he went away disappointed."
"I think he loved me, Aunt Matty."
"And you?" I questioned, anxiously.
She shook her head and smiled wistfully.
"You remember the violets we took from the spring down in the meadow yonder? How fresh and hardy they looked! But we tore them up too roughly, and they never would take root again! They were young plants, you said, and hard usage withered them. The violets are all uprooted and dead here."
She pressed one hand to her heart, and, stooping down, kissed me to hide the sadness that crept into her eyes.
"And you do not regret it?" I whispered, drawing her close to me.
"As I regretted the death of our violets, with a little sadness for the perfume that is gone."