“Don't you frown so, uncle, or I will run right home to-morrow,” said Annie, with the assurance of a privileged pet; “but I was going to ask you about the rock just back of those pines. Do you and Aunt Margaret still go there to see the sunset? I was thinking about you these two past evenings, when the sunsets were so grand, and wishing I was with you on the rock; and you were both there, weren't you?”
This time John Greylston gave no answer, but his sister said briefly,
“No, Annie, we have not been at the rock for several evenings;” and then a rather painful silence followed.
Annie at last spoke:
“You both, somehow, seem so changed and dull; I would just like to know the reason. May be aunty is going to be married. Is that it, Uncle John?”
Miss Margaret smiled, but the colour came brightly to her face.
“If this is really so, I don't wonder you are sad and grave; you, especially, Uncle John; how lonely and wretched you would be! Oh! would you not be very sorry if Aunt Madge should leave you, never to come back again? Would not your heart almost break?”
John Greylston threw down his knife and fork violently upon the table, and pushing back his chair, went from the room.
Annie Bermond looked in perfect bewilderment at her aunt, but Miss Margaret was silent and tearful.
“Aunt! darling aunt! don't look so distressed;” and Annie put her arms around her neck; “but tell me what have I done; what is the matter?”