‘Indeed I do, aunt. If there ever was a time when I felt unwilling that you should have a sorrow or anxiety which I could not share, it is now.’
‘You have had sorrow enough, child,’ said my aunt, affectionately, ‘without the addition of my little miseries.
I could have no other motive, Trot, in keeping anything from you.’
‘I know that well,’ said I. ‘But tell me now.’
‘Would you ride with me a little way tomorrow morning?’ asked my aunt.
‘Of course.’
‘At nine,’ said she. ‘I’ll tell you then, my dear.