"Possibly, my boy," bending carelessly over her work.
"Aunt Felicie," he strode up to her with sudden passion.
"Do not answer me so! I am a man, and I love this fisher-lass with all my heart!"
He had stopped directly before her, and she saw that his face was white with feeling. Down went the worsted-work, and, rising, she flung both arms about his neck.
"My Robare, my nephew, my son!" she cried in a choked voice, "I want the best that earth and heaven can give to you; and you—you do push over my ambitions, and expect that I will at once be glad and gay."
"But, auntie, you admire her too."
"I do, Robare; she is good and fair to see; but you must of the others take thought too, and she does need many teachings, dear."
"You'll teach her, auntie?"
"Oh, be quiet, then!" pushing him pettishly away. "Of what use to argue with a man so enamoured? Go thy Western way; obey me, and I will tell you every week all that there is to tell. Are you content?"
"I'll have to be," laughing a little at her expression; "but remember," turning in the doorway, "if I don't hear, I shall immediately find that business compels an Eastern trip." And, shaking a warning finger at her, he disappeared to his packing in an opposite apartment.