"No, I do not think you had," said Lois, gravely; "but I will try and never think of it again, but only of your kindness to me."
Suddenly, to her astonishment, Mrs. Wentworth burst out weeping. "You are all against me," she exclaimed--"all! You are all so hard on me!"
Lois sprang toward her, her face full of sudden pity. "Why, Cousin Louise!"
"You are all deserting me. What shall I do! I am so wretched! I am so lonely--so lonely! Oh, I wish I were dead!" sobbed the unhappy woman. "Then, maybe, some one might be sorry for me even if they did not love me."
Lois slipped her arm around her and drew her to her, as if their ages had been reversed. "Don't cry, Cousin Louise. Calm yourself."
Lois drew her down to a sofa, and kneeling beside her, tried to comfort her with tender words and assurances of her affection. "There, Cousin Louise, I do love you--we all love you. Cousin Norman loves you."
Mrs. Wentworth only sobbed her dissent.
"I will stay. I will not go," said Lois. "If you want me."
The unhappy woman caught her in her arms and thanked her with a humility which was new to the girl. And out of the reconciliation came a view of her which Lois had never seen, and which hardly any one had seen often.