'Am I not to be Aunt Milly always, then?' for there was something ineffably sad in the girl's voice.
'Yes, but we can no longer look to you for everything. We shall miss you out of our daily life. I do not mean to be selfish, Aunt Milly. I love to think of your happiness; but all the same I must feel as though something has passed out of my life.'
'I understand, dear. You know I never think you selfish, Olive. Now I want you to do something for me—a promise you must make me on my wedding-day.'
A flickering smile crossed Olive's pale face. 'It must not be a hard one, then.'
'It is one you can easily keep,—promise me to try to bear your failures hopefully. You will have many; perhaps daily ones. I am leaving you heavy responsibilities, my poor child; but who knows? They may be blessings in disguise.'
An incredulous sigh answered her.
'It will be your own fault if they do not prove so. When you fail, when things go wrong, think of your promise to me, and be patient with yourself. Say to yourself, "It is only one of Olive's mistakes, and she will try to do better next time." Do you understand me, my dear?'
'Yes, I will try, Aunt Milly.'
'I am leaving you, my darling, with a confidence that nothing can shake. I do not fear your goodness to others, only to this weary self,' with a light caressing touch on the girl's bowed head and shoulders. 'Hitherto you have leaned on me; I have been your crutch, Olive. Now you will rely on yourself. You see I do not make myself miserable about leaving you. I think even this is ordered for the best.'
'Yes, I know. How dear of you to say all this! But I must not keep you. Hark, they are calling you!'