Aunt Margaret stopped short, and pressed her thin, wide lips together. She had never imagined but that Professor Valeyon had told his daughters through whose immediate instrumentality it was that Bressant made his appearance at the Parsonage; but finding, from Cornelia's questions, that this was not so, she bethought herself that it might be well for her young guest to remain in ignorance, at least for the present. It was not too late, and, after a scarcely-perceptible pause, she made answer: "It was in your dear papa's _answer_ to my invitation, my love. Oh! so shocked I was dear little Sophie couldn't come--lay awake _all_ that night with a headache--yes, _indeed_!--when he _wrote_ to me, you know--such a dear, noble letter it _was_, too! Oh! I read it over a dozen--_twenty_ times at least!--he mentioned this new pupil of his--seemed interested in him--of course I _can't_ help being interested in whatever interests any of you dear ones, you know--he mentioned his strange name and all--it _is_ a strange name, isn't it, love?" "It isn't his real name," interposed Cornelia; "nobody except papa knows who he is. It's just like one of those ancient names, you know--the Christian name and the surname in one." "Oh, yes, I see--so odd, isn't it?--such a _mystery_, and all that--yes--so that's how I came to speak of him, I suppose. One gets _ideas_ of a person that way sometimes, don't you know, though they may never have actually _seen_ them at all? Oh! when I was a _young_ thing, I was just full of those--_ideals, I_ used to call them--oh, you know all about it, I _dare_ say!" "He met with a very serious accident just before I came away," said Cornelia to the ear-trumpet; "he stopped Dolly--our horse--she was running away with papa in the wagon. He saved papa beautifully, but he was dreadfully hurt--his collar-bone was broken, and he was kicked, and almost killed. He's at our house now, and papa's taking care of him." At this information Aunt Margaret became very white, or rather bloodless, in the face. She allowed the ear-trumpet to hang by its silver chain from her neck, and, reaching out her hand to a recess in the writing-table at which she sat, she drew forth a small ebony box, set in silver, and carved all over with little figures in bass-relief. Opening it, she took out a few grains of some dark substance which the box contained, and slipped them eagerly into her large mouth, Cornelia watched her out of the corner of her eyes, and, being a physician's daughter, she drew her own conclusions. "Ho, ho! that's where your sick-headaches, and yellow complexion, and nervousness, and weak eyes, come from, is it? You'd better look out! that's morphine, or opium, or some such thing, I know; and papa says that old ladies like you, who use such drugs, are liable to get insane after a while, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you were to become insane, Aunt Margaret!"