"Well, my dear," she said at last,—"and so you think these words forbid you to pray?"
"Do they not?" said Rotha, "until I could reconcile myself to aunt
Serena? or at least try."
"What is the matter between you and your aunt?"
"I do not know. I cannot tell what makes her do so."
"Do what?"
"Hide me from the only friend I have got."
"You mean that gentleman? My dear, she may have had very good reasons for that?"
"She could not have good reasons for it," said Rotha flushing.
"My dear, old people often see things that young people do not see, and cannot judge of."
"You do not know Mr. Southwode, ma'am. Anyhow, I do not feel as if I could ever forgive her."