Aldyth did not reply. Her face looked so full of trouble that her aunt went to her and kissed her.
"Why, Aldyth," she said, playfully, "you look quite overwhelmed. Most girls would be elated by such good fortune. Think how pleased your mother will be."
"Yes, she will be pleased," said Aldyth, as if the idea had not occurred to her before. But her face did not brighten.
"I never wished to be rich," she said, presently; "it will not make me happier. Only," she added, as she thought of her poor, overworked girl friends in London, "it will give me the power to brighten other lives. That is the best thing about wealth, I think."
"Bless you, child," said her aunt, kissing her again, "you always have brightened the lives of others. You have made mine happier ever since you came to me as a tiny child."
Aldyth rose and threw her arms about her aunt, returning her kisses with interest.
"Aunt," she asked the next minute, in a frightened whisper, "shall I have to live here now?"
"I do not know, dear; but I suppose it must be your home," said Miss Lorraine, cheerfully.
"I can never bear to live here alone," said Aldyth, almost in tears. "You must live here with me, auntie."
"Well, well, dear, we will see; it is early yet to make plans," said Miss Lorraine, soothingly. She was not prepared to renounce on the instant her pretty cottage at Woodham.