“And remember that if you ever harm this woman by a word or look, even,” added Amy, bending her head toward her aunt, “you will repent it bitterly.”
The man stared at her and fumbled with his hat. The cigar had dropped upon the floor. Amy pointed to it, and said, “Now go.”
Mr. Joseph stooped, picked up the stump, and departed. Amy felt weak. Her aunt stood by her, and said, calmly,
“It was only part of my punishment.”
Amy’s eyes flashed.
“Yes, aunt; and if any body should break into your room and steal every thing you have and throw you out of the window, or break your bones and leave you here to die of starvation, I suppose you would think it all part of your punishment.”
“It would be no more than I deserve, Amy.”
“Aunt Martha,” replied Amy, “if you don’t take care you will force me to break my promise to you.”
“Amy, to do that would be to bring needless disgrace upon your mother and all her family and friends. They have considered me dead for nearly sixteen years. They have long ago shed the last tear of regret for one whom they believed to be as pure as you are now. Why should you take her to them from the tomb, living still, but a loathsome mass of sin? I am equal to my destiny. The curse is great, but I will bear it alone; and the curse of God will fall upon you if you betray me.”
Amy was startled by the intensity with which these words were uttered. There was no movement of the hands or head upon the part of the older woman. She stood erect by the table, and, as her words grew stronger, the gloom of her appearance appeared to intensify itself, as a thunder-cloud grows imperceptibly blacker and blacker.