"There are reasons," said Beth, slowly, "why your name is seldom
mentioned in my father's family. Until your letter came I scarcely
knew I possessed an aunt. It was your desire we should become better
acquainted, and I am here for that purpose. I hope we shall become
friends, Aunt Jane, but until then, it is better we should not discuss
the past."
The woman frowned. It was not difficult for her to read the character
of the child before her, and she knew intuitively that Beth was
strongly prejudiced against her, but was honestly trying not to allow
that prejudice to influence her. She decided to postpone further
interrogations until another time.
"Your journey has tired you," she said abruptly. "I'll have Misery
show you to your room."
She touched a bell beside her.
"I'm not tired, but I'll go to my room, if you please," answered Beth,
who realized that she had in some way failed to make as favorable an
impression as she had hoped. "When may I see you again?"
"When I send for you," snapped Aunt Jane, as the housekeeper entered.
"I suppose you know I am a paralytic, and liable to die at any time?"
"I am very sorry," said Beth, hesitatingly.
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