“Have nothing to do with those people,” replied Aunt Rachel, frigidly. “They are bad, root and branch. I know them, my dear. That young man has the audacity to admire you. You must not encourage him.”
“I am sure,” said Ruth, guiltily, only half knowing what she said, “he has never spoken a word—”
“It is not necessary to wait for words,” returned the old lady. “I can see quite clearly. I am experienced. I know the Golds. I have been familiar with the method of their villany for many years.”
“How can you speak so?” the girl asked, recovering something of her native spirit. “I am sure that there is no better man in the world than Mr. Ezra Gold. Everybody speaks well of him.”
“It is not quite accurate, my dear,” said Aunt Rachel, “to say that everybody speaks well of him, when a person even so inconsiderable as myself is in the act of speaking ill of him.” The quaint veneer of fashion with which for many years she had overlaid her speech and manner was more apparent in this address than common, but suddenly she broke through it and spoke with an approach to passion. “I know them; they are villains. Have nothing to do with any member of that family, my dear, as you value your happiness.” She pinched her niece's arm tightly as she spoke, and for a little time they walked on in silence, Ruth not knowing what to say in answer to this outburst, but by no means convinced as yet of the villany either of Ezra or Reuben. “Now, my dear,” Aunt Rachel began again, with a return to her customary mincing tones, “you are not far from your own residence. I observe,” with a swift glance over her shoulder, “that the person still lingers at the corner. But if he should attempt to follow you may rely upon me to intercept him. My niece must act like my niece. You must show your detestation of his odious advances in a proper manner.”
“But, Aunt Rachel!” protested Ruth, “he has never made any advances, and I—I haven't any detestation.”
“All in good time, my dear,” responded the old lady. “In the mean time, rely upon my protection.” With this she stood up birdlike, and pecked affectionately at Ruth's rosy cheek. The girl was well-nigh crying, but restrained herself, and answered Rachel's “God bless you” with some self-possession.
“Good-morning, dear aunt. But you are quite, oh, quite mistaken.”
“Indeed, my dear,” said Aunt Rachel, with a glitter in her youthful eyes, and a compression of her mobile lips, “I am nothing of the kind.” Ruth's eyes sank, and she blushed before the old lady's keen and triumphant smile. She moved away downcast, while Aunt Rachel took the opposite direction. The old lady wore a determined air which changed to a sparkling triumph as she saw Reuben cross the road with an inelastic step, and continue his homeward way with a head bent either in thought or dejection.