I
shall say no more.
So you have seen him, and he asked after me. Well. What was he doing
in Homburg, I wonder? Not that I care. I really believe, Constance,
that I care no longer. And yet it so happens that last night I
thought of him a good deal. It came about so. Grandmamma had gone to
bed, and I went into Aunt Caroline's room to light her candles.
There are some little water-colours round the mirror that she
painted as a girl. I stopped to look at them, and the poor soul took
them down one by one to show me. There was a story attached to each,
and her eyes brightened with remembrance of the past. Most of the
little pictures were different views of the same house. Suddenly she
gave a little smile.
"Wait a minute; I'll show you another picture, Milly--my best
picture." (They will call me Milly; there's no help for it.) "I have
never shown it to any one before, but you are a good girl; I think I
should like to show it to you."
She cleared a space upon her dressing-table, lighted a third
candle, a fourth, making a little illumination; then from her
wardrobe she brought an old desk, and unlocked it solemnly with a
key that always hangs upon her watch-chain.
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