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"I shall leave Rosville," were Ben's last words. "What a fine, handsome young man he is! He is a gentleman," said Aunt Merce. "Of course, Aunt Merce." "Why of course? I should think from the way you speak that you had only seen young gentlemen of his stamp. Have you forgotten Surrey?" Father and she laughed. They could laugh very easily, for they were overjoyed to have me going home with them.
Aunt Merce sighed. "If he goes, I must go; I can be the receptacle for his griefs and trials for a while at least, and be a little useful that way. You know, Locke, I am but a poor creature." "I was not aware of that fact, and am astonished to hear you say so, Mercy, when you know how far back I can remember. Mary shines all along those years, and you with her."
Veronica drank a little milk, but would taste nothing. Aunt Merce, who had been out to tea, Temperance said, came into the kitchen. "My poor girl, I have not seen you," embracing me, half blind with crying, "How pale you are! How sunken! Keep up as well as you can. I little thought that the worthless one of us two would be left to suffer. Go to your father, as soon as possible."
Bombazine made her flesh crawl. Why should she wear it? Mother hated it, too, for she had never worn out the garments made for Grand'ther Warren. "She's a bigger child than ever," Temperance remarked, "and must have her way." "Do you think the border on my cap is too deep?" asked Aunt Merce, coming into my room dressed for the funeral. "No."
I was the only one of the family who never went to Rosville. Aunt Merce took up her abode with Alice, on account of Arthur, whom she idolized. When father was married again, the Morgeson family denounced him for it, and for leaving Surrey; but they accepted his invitations to Rosville, and returned with glowing accounts of his new house and his hospitality.
"Then I shan't tell you; if I were you, though, I shouldn't trouble myself to be overpolite to the folks who have come and gone here, nigh on to twenty years, hang 'em!" A few days before the wedding Aunt Merce and Arthur came home. Arthur was shy at first regarding the great change, but being agreeably disappointed, grew lively.
I perceived that Aunt Merce had aged since mother's death; her manner was changed; the same objects no longer possessed an interest. She looked at me penitentially. "I wish I could say," she said, "what I used to say to you, that you were 'possessed. Now that there is no occasion for me to comprehend people, I begin to. My education began wrong end foremost.
I locked the door, and took out the key; the stairs were crowded. All made way for me with a silent respect. Aunt Merce, when she saw me, put her hand on an empty chair, beside father, who sat by the coffin.
"Yes, yes, with a candor which misled me. But you are talking too much." "Give me more broth, then." I was soon well enough to go home. Father came for me, bringing Aunt Merce. There was no alteration in her, except that she had taken to wearing a false front, which had a claret tinge when the light struck it, and a black lace cap.
I looked at my aunt; her regards were still fixed upon me, but they did not interfere with her occupation of knitting; neither did they interrupt her habit of chewing cloves, flagroot, or grains of rice. If these articles were not at hand, she chewed a small chip. "Aunt Merce, poor Hepburn chewed his shoes, when he was in Davis's Straits." "Mary, look at that child's stockings."
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