Jessie shook her head quite dejectedly.
"No, that can never be; these rides and invitations have been misunderstood. He really thought I was encouraging him, when you know, dear Aunt Matty, I hadn't the least idea of what it all meant. He talks of going to Europe at once, or—or—"
"Or what?" I inquired, with an inclination to smile; "drown himself by the old mill, perhaps?"
She glanced at me a little roguishly, and said, with a half-sigh, "Yes, aunt, I believe he almost threatened that."
"So much the better," I said, gravely enough; for she was on the alert for any signs of ridicule. "The disappointment that takes that form is not killing."
"Don't!" she said, with a contraction of the forehead, which gave evidence of real pain, "the very remembrance of his face is a reproach to me; and there they sat so quietly in the shade of a tree enjoying the scenery. To them, I dare say, the world contained nothing else to think of. Mrs. Dennison even pointed at us with her whip, as if we made up the figures of a picture."
"Well, but she did not know," I suggested.
"Heaven forbid!"
We were interrupted then, and Jessie went to her mother, whose gentle sympathy was always at command, though the cause of grief might be unexplained. The presence of that woman was like a calm autumn day—it saddened while it made you better.