Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1881-07-30

odd sound in her voice, "Aunt Susan il
I not generally considered So.
90 1 am surprised at that, said
Q have seldom seen so sweet face.
, suppose that, although you call hel
aunt, she is in reality your great
amt ?"
"No," answered Violet, "she is my
fathers half-sister. But there is diff.
ference of twenty-five years between
them. You may keep that photograph
if you like. have another copy"
My opinion that Miss Violet's injuries
were not of serious nature proved to
J be correct. She mended rapidly, and
was soon able to lie on the sofa in the
drawing room, devouring every book
within reach, and showing considerable
appreciation of Mary's efforts at invalid
cookery.
Mary and I soon became very fond of
our guest, although we agreed that we
would rather take charge of her in sick
ness than in health. She soon got over
her dread of shocking Miss Ellison, and
succeeded in doing so pretty effectually
l could not help laughing at the de-
scriptions of some of her pranks, and l
tried to make Mary see that, with all
her unconventional ways, she never
showed any want of refinement. She
was very clever, and great credit to
her aunt's teaching, being well and
solldly grounded.
Violet kept very faithfully her promise
of writing to Mary, nor did I allow my
correspondence with Miss Ferrars to
drop; it was seldom difficult to find
a pretext for letter; one led to another,
and we were soon writing, each to the
other, as to an old friend. Each step
! toward intimacy served but to deepen
the impression made upon me by
| Nlolet's description of her aunt. It was
curious what a hold had been taken
upon my imagination by this woman
whom had never seen. and who, if she
were tive-and-twenty years older than
Violet's father, must have been almost,
if not quite, contemporary with my
! granemother. had even constructed
q little romance about her. No one who
saw her photograph could doubt that
she had been singularly beautiful, and l
decided that in early youth she had lost
her lover by death, and had remained
| faithful to his memory ever since. GA
lucky fellow he must have BEEN"
! thought / to myself, as the face of the
| photograph in the guise it must have
worn some forty or fifty years before
rose up in my mind "What donkey
l am, to be sure Here am I making a
fool Of myself about woman who must
haye been past her youth when / was
born. l must try to fall in love with
some one by way of an antidote." But,
somehow, none of the girls whom / was
in the habit of meeting were fair enough
or wise enough to put the ideal Susan
Ferrars from my thoughts.
| About year after | had thus come
into contact with the Ferrars family,
business took me to within few miles
of Carlingham, and | determined to
profit by this opportunity of seeing
! both my unknown correspondent and
my former patient. As / walked up the
| hill from the railway station [ was over
taken by Miss Violet-something taller
/ than she had been last year, and every
bit as unconventional. Just as friendly
and affectionate also, for she seemed
really glad to see me, and insisted on
my going straight to the rectory, to be
! introduced to her father and aunt. We
! passed across green lawn surrounded
! by some fine old lime trees, through a
glass door into matted hall, and thence
into pretty drawing-room, cool, shady,
/ and flower scented.
"Here is DIR. Ellison, Aunt Susan"
called out Violet as we entered.
| looked across the room, expecting to
see my ideal old lady, but the person
who came forward to meet me, uttering
some cordial words of welcome, was
quite young, almost girl in fact, being
certainly under five-and-twenty tall,
slender, and darkhaired, aud bearing a
curious resemblance to my mental pic
| ture of Aunt Susan in her youth.
She paused suddenly on coming near
me, half Withdrawing her outstretched
hand.
" 1 thought you said DR.. Ellison, Vio-
let."
$50 I did," said Violet. "This is DR..
Ellison"
81 beg your pardon" said the girl,
recovering herself, 81 was under a wrong
impression with regard to you. 1 am
very glad to have the pleasure of making
your acquaintance, and she motioned
me to seat opposite to the low wicker
chair from which she herself had risen.
"Will You look for your father, Vio-
let ?" she said, after a few minutes.
"He will be delighted to see DIR. Eli
son"
"And Miss Ferrars-am not to have
the pleasure of seeing her ?" asked.
" 1 am Miss Ferrars," said the girl,
laughing.
81 mean the elder Miss Ferrars-Vio-
let's Aunt Susan"
But this is Aunt Susan, said Violet.
"This Aunt Susan But your Aunt
Susan is an old lady y
"Is she | wasn't aware of that"
"But you gave me her photograph"
L persisted. 81 have it still-a charm
ing old lady in mob cap"
"I remember" said Violet, suddenly,
81 did go in for bit of mystification.
You said in your letter to me, Aunt Su-
san, that you had often heard your
mother speak of DIR. Ellison, who was
such kind, courteous old gentleman,
and such clever doctor. While 1 was
reading the letter, in came DIR. Ellison,
looking about as venerable as he does at
present. In speaking of you, he said
something which showed me that he on
his part imagined You to be on the other
side of ninety so, just for fun, 1 showed
HIM that photograph of you, dressed for
the acting charades at the Manor /