"Aunt Helen, why is it that all of you are so opposed to Mr. Dale?"
"Opposed! Well, dear, I should hardly call it that," said my aunt. "Your father has an idea, I believe, that Mr. Dale is mercenary in his views. What foundation for it he may have I do not know. As for myself, I cannot say I am opposed, for I scarcely know the young man."
"My father is very unjust," I said with tears in my eyes.
"It may be, dear. Very likely he would own himself that it was merely an impression; but it is only right that he should watch over your interests carefully."
"Is it watching over my interests to cast suspicion on the motives of one of my best friends?"
"It will all come right in the end, dear."
"He is noble and high-minded. No one shall say anything against him in my presence," I cried fiercely.
My aunt smoothed out the lap of her dress reflectively. "You are quite justified in standing up for your friend, Virginia. No one can blame you for that. I have no doubt this young Dale is all you describe him to be. Only," she added, with an apologetic cough, "be discreet. Some persons, perhaps, would wish to be better informed before ceasing to feel uneasy. I believe, though, in trusting to a girl's own instinct in these matters: it rarely goes astray. If my parents had followed that course, I might have been more happy."
She raised her handkerchief to her eyes to stay a tear, and with an impulse of gratitude and pity I went to her and kissed her.
"Yes," she murmured, acknowledging my sympathy with a pressure of the hand, "when I was just about your age there was a young man who was very fond of me, and I liked him. He wished to marry me."