He's at our house now, and papa's taking care of him." At this information Aunt Margaret became very white, or rather bloodless, in the face.

She allowed the ear-trumpet to hang by its silver chain from her neck, and, reaching out her hand to a recess in the writing-table at which she sat, she drew forth a small ebony box, set in silver, and carved all over with little figures in bass-relief.
Opening it, she took out a few grains of some dark substance which the box contained, and slipped them eagerly into her large mouth, Cornelia watched her out of the corner of her eyes, and, being a physician's daughter, she drew her own conclusions.
"Ho, ho! that's where your sick-headaches, and yellow complexion, and nervousness, and weak eyes, come from, is it?
You'd better look out! that's morphine, or opium, or some such thing, I know; and papa says that old ladies like you, who use such drugs, are liable to get insane after a while, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you were to become insane, Aunt Margaret!" This agreeable prophecy, being confined solely to Cornelia's thoughts, was naturally inaudible to Mrs.Vanderplanck.She murmured something about her doctor having prescribed medicine to be taken at that hour, and then, the medicine appearing to have an immediate and salutary effect, she found her color and her voice again, and took up the conversation.
"Shocking! oh, shocking! _so_ sad for the poor young man--no father--no--no mother there to care for him.

He _it_ an orphan, is he not ?--no relatives, I suppose--no one who _belongs_ to him, poor boy! Dear, dear!--but he's _not_ fatally injured, is he ?--not fatally ?" "Oh, no," replied Cornelia, whose opinion of Aunt Margaret's character was much improved by this evidently sincere sympathy in the suffering of some one she had never seen--"oh, no; papa says he'll be all well in three months." "And he's staying at your house, and under your dear father's care ?" "Yes, he is now.

Before his accident he was boarding at Abbie's, down in the village.

She would have been very kind to him, of course, but I suppose he'd rather be at our house, because papa can always be at hand." While Cornelia was delivering this into the black ear-trumpet, she turned her eyes away from Aunt Margaret's face, being in truth somewhat embarrassed at talking so much about the man who had her heart.
Consequently she did not observe the expression which crossed her companion's face at her mention of the modest name of the boarding-house keeper.