And yet, what choice is left me?
what can I do when my aunt writes to me in that way ?" She took up the letter again, and looked at it so ruefully that I drew her head a little nearer to me, and gratefully kissed the smooth white forehead.
"If your aunt is only half as anxious to see you again, my love, as I am to see my son, I must forgive her for taking you away from us." The words came from me without premeditation.

It was not calculation this time, but sheer instinct that impelled me to test her in this way, once more, by a direct reference to George.

She was so close to me that I felt her breath quiver on my cheek.

Her eyes had been fixed on my face a moment before, but they now wandered away from it constrainedly.

One of her hands trembled a little on my shoulder, and she took it off.
"Thank you for trying to make our parting easier to me," she said, quickly, and in a lower tone than she had spoken in yet.