Then, when it seemed to Edith that she really must give up, and petition for at least a few weeks at home, came a letter from her father, containing some very surprising news. A distant relative had died, and quite unexpectedly had left Dr. Harley a considerable legacy.
"I am very glad to tell you," wrote her father, "that I shall now be relieved from all the pecuniary anxieties that have pressed upon me so heavily for the last few years. Your mother and I would now be very glad to have you home again, unless you feel that you are better and happier where you are. We owe your Aunt Rachel very many thanks for all her kindness, but we think she will agree that, now the chief reason for your absence from home is removed, your right place is with your brothers and sisters."
To go home! How delightful it would be! That was Edith's first thought; but others quickly followed. What would Aunt Rachel say? Would she really be sorry to lose her niece, or would she perhaps feel relieved of a troublesome charge, and glad to be left alone with her faithful Stimson, as she had been before?
"I must speak to my aunt about it at once," thought Edith. "And no doubt papa will write to her too."
But when she went into the garden, where her aunt was venturing to court the sunshine, she found her actually in tears.
"Your father has written me a most unfeeling letter," said the poor lady, sitting on a seat, and before Edith could utter a word. "Because he is better off he wants to take you away. He seems not to think in the least of my lonely state, or that I may have grown attached to you, but suggests that you should return home as soon as we can arrange it, without the least regard for my feelings."
"Papa would never think you cared so much, Aunt Rachel. Would you really rather I should stay, then?"
"Child, I could never go back to my old solitary life again. I did not mean to tell you, and perhaps I am not wise to do so now, but I will say it, Edith—I have grown to love you, my dear, and if you love me, you will not think of going away and leaving me to illness and solitude. Your father and mother have all their other children—I have nothing and no one but you. Promise that you will stay with me?"
"I have Grown to Love you!"
"I must think about it, aunt," said Edith, much moved by her aunt's words. "Oh, do not think me ungrateful, but it will be very hard for me to decide; and perhaps papa will not let me decide for myself."