"No, my darling; but these things must not be buried with me."
There was something in his eyes which made me start with terror. But he smiled so sweetly that my terror fled.
"And now, my child, about yourself. Though you have found me another daughter, I look upon you as the eldest; and I venture to speak to you, as a father would. Is it as my Lily tells me? Is it true--God grant it may be--that you love my son, my Lily's son, Henry Conrad? Why don't you answer me, darling? Tell the truth like a real Vaughan. Surely you are not ashamed of him." And he laid his hand on my head. My tears fell fast; and my heart was in a tempest.
"Yes, Uncle," at last I answered, frightened for his suspense, and looking him full in the face, "Yes, Uncle, I do--I mean at least I did--love him very much at one time."
"With all your heart, as we Vaughans love; with all your heart, poor darling?"
"Yes, Uncle," I sobbed, in bitter humiliation; "none of my heart is left me."
"Thank God! what blest news for his mother! My Harry is the happiest fellow alive."
"But, Uncle, he does not think so, he--he--doesn't perceive his blessedness." A flash of my old self-irony came even through my anguish.
"Oh, I have heard all that. But surely you know the absurd mistake he made."
"Indeed, I cannot guess it. Is it my place to do that?"