“Now keep still, Allison. He was nice all the time; only I didn’t like him to want our Cloudy. He didn’t seem to be quite nice enough for her. He didn’t quite fit her. But if she wanted him–––”
“But I don’t, Leslie,” cried Julia Cloud in distress. “I never did!”
“Are you really true, Cloudy, dear? You’re such a dear, unselfish Cloudy. How shall we ever quite be sure she isn’t giving him up just for us, Allison?”
“Children, listen!” said Julia Cloud, suddenly putting a quieting hand on each young hand in her lap. “I’ll tell you something I never told to a living soul.”
There was that in her voice that thrilled them into silence. It was as if she suddenly opened the door of her soul and let them look in on her real self as only God saw her. Their fingers tightened in sympathy as she went on.
“A long time ago––a great many years ago––perhaps you would laugh and think me foolish if you knew how many–––”
“Oh, no, Cloudy, never!” said Leslie softly; and Allison growled a dissenting note.
“Well––there was some one whom I loved––who died. That is all; only––I never could love anybody that way again. Marriage without a love like that is a desecration.”
“O Cloudy! We never knew–––” murmured Leslie.
“No one ever knew, dear. He was very young. We were both scarcely more than children. I was only fourteen–––”