“I should,” said Paula, “if—Oh aunt, you know what stands in my way! I have seen it in your eyes for some time. There is someone else—”
“But he has not spoken?” vigorously ejaculated her aunt.
Without answering, Paula put into her hand, with a slow reluctance she had not manifested before, a second little note, and then hid her head amid the bedclothes, waiting with quickly beating heart for what her aunt might say.
She did not seem in haste to speak, but when she did, her words came with a quick sigh that echoed very drearily in the young girl’s anxious ears. “You have been placed by this in a somewhat painful position. I sympathize with you, my child. It is very hard to give denial to a benefactor.”
Paula’s head drew nearer to her aunt’s breast, her arms crept round her neck. “But must I?” she breathed.
Miss Belinda knitted her brows with great force, and stared severely at the wall opposite. “I am sorry there is any question about it,” she replied.
Paula started up and looked at her with sudden determination. “Aunt,” said she, “what is your objection to Mr. Sylvester?”
Miss Belinda shook her head, and pushing the girl gently away, hurriedly arose and began dressing with great rapidity. Not until she was entirely prepared for breakfast did she draw Paula to her, and prepare to answer her question.
“My objection to him is, that I do not thoroughly understand him. I am afraid of the skeleton in the closet, Paula. I never feel at ease when I am with him, much as I admire his conversation and appreciate the undoubtedly noble instincts of his heart. His brow is not open enough to satisfy an eye which has accustomed itself to the study of human nature.”