She opened the door and passed out swiftly. The listener at the key-hole barely escaped behind the cabinet—no more.
Mollie, in her rosy silken robes, like a little goddess Aurora, followed her out, down the stairs, and opened for her the house door.
The first little pink clouds of the coming morn were blushing in the east, and the rag-women, with their bags and hooks, were already astir.
"When shall I see you again?" Mollie said.
Miriam turned and looked at her, half wonderingly.
"Do you really wish to see me again, Mollie—such a wretched-looking being as I am?"
"Are you not my aunt?" Mollie cried, passionately. "How do I know there is another being on this earth in whose veins flow the same blood as mine? And you—you love me, I think."
"Heaven knows I do, Mollie Dane!"
"Then why wrong me by such a question? Come again, and again; and come soon. I will be on the watch for you. And now, farewell!"
She held out her little white hand. A moment, and they had parted.