“My good sir,” said Rachel, rising from her seat and asserting every inch of her small stature, “I desire to hold no communication with you now or henceforth.”
“That should be enough for a man, Miss Blythe,” said Ezra, mildly. “But why? if I may make so bold.”
“I thought,” said the little old lady, more starched and prim than ever, “I believed myself to have intimated that our conversation was at an end.”
“You was not wont to be cruel nor unjust in your earlier days,” Ezra answered. “But it shall be as you wish.”
He left the seat, gave her a quaint old-fashioned bow, and returned to his former standing-place. Ruth was back again by this time, and Rachel crossed over to where she stood.
“Niece Ruth,” she said, speaking after a fashion which was frequent with her, with an exaggerated motion of the lips, “I shall be obliged to you if you will accompany me to the house.”
“Certainly, aunt,” the girl answered, and placing an arm around her shoulders, walked away with her. “There is something the matter, dear. What is it?”
“There is nothing the matter,” said the old lady, coldly.
“There is something serious the matter,” said Ruth. They were in the house by this time, and sheltered from observation. “You are trembling and your hands are cold. Let me get you a glass of wine.”
Aunt Rachel stood erect before her, and answered with frozen rebuke,
“In my young days girls were not encouraged to contradict their seniors. I have said there is nothing the matter.”
Ruth bent forward and took the two cold, dry little hands in her own warm grasp, and looked into her aunt's eyes with tender solicitude. The hands were suddenly snatched away, and Aunt Rachel dropped into a seat, and without preface began to cry. Ruth knelt beside her, twining a firm arm and supple hand about her waist, and drawing down her head softly until its gray curls were pressed against her own ripe cheek. Not a word was spoken, and in five minutes the old maid's tears were over.
“Say nothing of this, my dear,” she said, as she kissed Ruth, and began to smooth her ruffled ribbons and curls. Her manner was less artificial than common, but the veneer of affectation was too firmly fixed to be peeled off at a moment's notice. “We are all foolish at times. You will find that out for yourself, child, as you grow older. I have been greatly disturbed, my dear, but I shall not again permit my equilibrium to be shaken by the same causes. Tell me, child, is Mr. Ezra Gold often to be found here?”