saw that her aunt was distressed, and as she did not wish to pain her
unduly, was willing to divert the immediate channel of her fear. She
took the hand which lay in her lap and held it firmly whilst she
smiled in the loving old eyes.

'Of course, Auntie dear, it is theory. But still it is a theory
which I hold very strongly!' . . . Here a thought struck her and she
said suddenly:

'Did you ever . . . How many proposals did you have, Auntie?' The
old lady smiled; her thoughts were already diverted.

'Several, my dear! It is so long ago that I don't remember!'

'Oh yes, you do, Auntie! No woman ever forgets that, no matter what
else she may or may not remember! Tell me, won't you?' The old lady
blushed slightly as she answered:

'There is no need to specify, my dear. Let it be at this, that there
were more than you could count on your right hand!'

'And why did you refuse them?' The tone was wheedling, and the elder
woman loved to hear it. Wheedling is the courtship, by the young of
the old.

'Because, my dear, I didn't love them.'

'But tell me, Auntie, was there never any one that you did love?'

'Ah! my dear, that is a different matter. That is the real tragedy