She little knew how soon her words would be put to the test.
“I know you love me, dear, but you cannot stay with me; you will soon go home, where you have a fond father and mother, brothers and sisters, while I have no one. I have no object in life, Aspasia, now that auntie is gone,” and again the torrent of grief rushed forth.
Miss Huntington made her lie down, and soothed her as she would a child. With her own dainty hands she removed her boots, brought a soft pair of slippers and put them on, then bathed her head, and worked over her until she grew calm again.
Their conversation was interrupted by a servant coming to tell them that Miss Douglas’ presence was required in the library to listen to the reading of the will. The summons made the poor girl’s grief burst forth afresh.
“Oh, auntie, auntie!” she sobbed, “your money will be nothing to me without you—gold without love is worthless.”
“You will go down with me, Aspasia,” she said, holding out her hand to her friend as she arose to obey the request.
“Certainly, dear, if you wish,” was the kind reply, and the two friends descended to the library, to find Miss Mehetabel’s lawyer, the family doctor, and clergyman awaiting their appearance.
Brownie greeted them with a graceful inclination of her head, then seated herself to await their business.
Rev. Mr. Ashley approached and took her hand.
“My dear Miss Douglas,” he said, and his voice shook with sympathy as he looked into her sad face, “it was your aunt’s request that her will be read immediately after the funeral ceremonies, and as our good friend, the doctor, and myself were witnesses to that document, we were invited to be present at the reading of it.”