Poor Aunt Dorothy had been forced into a marriage which had wrecked her life. Dorothy's words opened her aunt's eyes to the fact that the girl whom she so dearly loved was being thrust by Sir George into the same wretched fate through which she had dragged her own suffering heart for so many years. From that hour she was Dorothy's ally.
"Good night, Malcolm," said Lady Crawford, offering me her hand. I kissed it tenderly; then I kissed the sweet old lady's cheek and said:—
"I love you with all my heart, Aunt Dorothy."
"I thank you, Malcolm," she returned.
I took my leave, and soon Madge went to her room, leaving Dorothy and Lady Crawford together.
When Madge had gone the two Dorothys, one at each end of life, spanned the long years that separated them, and became one in heart by reason of a heartache common to both.
Lady Crawford seated herself and Dorothy knelt by her chair.
"Tell me, Dorothy," said the old lady, "tell me, do you love this man so tenderly, so passionately that you cannot give him up?"
"Ah, my dear aunt," the girl responded, "words cannot tell. You cannot know what I feel."
"Alas! I know only too well, my child. I, too, loved a man when I was your age, and none but God knows what I suffered when I was forced by my parents and the priests to give him up, and to wed one whom—God help me—I loathed."