"I will 'guess,'" said I, "she is nineteen or twenty."
"Add ten to that," he replied quickly, as she approached.
After half an hour, during which time Joseph did most of the talking, aunt came to me remarking that I looked very tired and had better retire. This I was glad to do, and she said she would accompany me; but Fidelia begged so earnestly for the privilege, that I requested aunt to remain with Frank. Contrary to my expectation, and indeed to my wish, she entered my room, and remained so long I had no excuse for not undressing; and at length was obliged to do so in the presence of an entire stranger. She continued talking, however, in a most confidential strain. "I suppose you don't wonder," she commenced, "that Frank, (the rest of the family called him Doctor,) and I are so glad to see one another, considering,"--she stopped.
"Considering what?" I asked in surprise at her manner, which implied far more than her words expressed.
She hesitated, "why _considering_ that we were brought up together. Aunt Lenox adopted me when mother died, and I always lived at your house. What room do you occupy?" she asked.
I answered reluctantly, though I could not tell why. There was something very unpleasant about her conversation. It always, unintentionally perhaps, left a sting. She went on to inform me in the strictest confidence, that she and Frank had been fondly attached to one another.
"Why," I asked, "was this friendship given up?"
"_Friendship_," she repeated in a theatrical tone, "say rather ardent _love_!" I could not prevent my voice from trembling a little as I repeated my question.
"Oh!" she replied with a mysterious air, "aunt Lenox--peculiar reasons."--She suddenly started on hearing a step; and whispering, "not a word of all this, my dear," hastily left me.
I don't think I could have endured it a moment longer. I never felt so thoroughly "worked up," as the Yankees say; and for five minutes I would have given every thing I possessed, could I have been safely at home under my own dear mother's roof. When Frank came up, I could only feign sleep in order to conceal my new and strange emotions of distrust and jealousy, Fidelia had awakened in my mind. I forced myself to be quiet until Frank was asleep, when I could contain myself no longer. With my face buried in the pillow to stifle my sobs, I wept until I could weep no longer. I lay awake all night, revolving the dreadful deception which I fancied had been practised upon me. I could well understand, I thought, why mother Lenox had never even mentioned Fidelia's name in my presence. Nor could I account for the fact that Frank had not, except upon the supposition that what she had told me was true. Indeed the truth of her story I did not for a moment doubt.