"What?" asked Lily, mildly bewildered.
"Jeunesse, jeunesse!" said Aunt Clo, quite in her old way. "Youth calls to youth, my Lily, as well I know. And watching you, I have re-lived my own past. You know something of the story of my past. Do not, I beseech you, little one—do not let me live to see tragedy repeat itself."
"Tell me what you mean, Aunt Clo."
"Lily, Lily! Fencing is unworthy of you—utterly unworthy of us both."
"I want to know what you think," said Lily wearily.
"Think!" repeated Aunt Clo solemnly. "What can I think?"
Her niece was utterly unable to find a reply to the portentous conundrum.
Miss Stellenthorpe put one hand upon Lily's shoulder and plunged a long, deep look into her eyes.
Then she sank into a seat and allowed the saddest of smiles to dawn upon her lips. She shook her head slowly from side to side. "Who am I, that you should turn to me, my dear? I, who made such a shipwreck of my youth? But O, little one! How lightly I should count the cost, if it is to save you from the same folly, from the same life-time of regret!"
Had Aunt Clotilde really some message to interpret?