After they went, I sat listening for nearly half an hour to the low murmurs in the next room, and wishing the stranger would only go, so that I might exhibit my new treasures. At last the strange gentleman opened the door softly, talking all the way, across the room, through the entry, and finally whispering himself fairly out-of-doors. When my husband came in, I was eager to show him the Mercury, and the lily, and the taper-stand.
"And do you know, after all, I hadn't the real nobleness and truthfulness and right-mindedness to tell Mrs. Harris that these and Aunt Allen's gift were all I had received! I am ashamed of myself, to have such a mean mortification about what is really of no importance. Certainly, if my friends don't care enough for me to send me something, I ought to be above caring for it."
"I don't know that, Del. Your mortification is very natural. How can we help caring? Do you like your Aunt Allen very much?" added he, abruptly.
"Because she gave me fifty dollars? Yes, I begin to think I do," said I, laughing.
He looked at me quickly.
"Your Aunt Allen is very rich, is she not?"
"I believe so. Why? You look very serious. I neither respect nor love her for her riches; and I haven't seen her these ten years."
He looked sober and abstracted; but when I spoke, he smiled a little.
"Do you remember Ella's chapter on Old China?" said he, sitting down on the sofa, and—I don't mind saying—putting one arm round my waist.
"Yes,—why?"