‘Do not be absurd, my dear child. You know I am very fond of you,’ said Oswald, with such a softening in his voice, and so kind a look in his eyes, that Cara was quite disarmed. He put his hand lightly upon her waist as a brother might have done. ‘We have known each other all our lives--we shall know each other all the rest of our lives. I tell you everything--you are my little conscience keeper, my adviser. I don’t know what I should do without you,’ he said; and, being of a caressing disposition, Oswald bent down suddenly, and kissed the soft cheek which was lifted towards him. There were two doors to the room--the one most generally used was in its second division, the back drawing-room; but another door opened directly out upon the staircase, and the two were standing, as it happened, directly in front of this. By what chance it happened that Miss Cherry chose this door to come in by, and suddenly, softly threw it open at this particular moment, will never be known. There is something in such a salutation, especially when at all ambiguous in its character, which seems to stir up all kinds of malicious influences for its betrayal. The sudden action of Miss Cherry in opening this door revealed the little incident not only to her but to Edward, who was coming up the stair. Cara rushed to the other end of the room, her lace scorching with shame; but Oswald, more used to the situation, stood his ground, and laughed. ‘Ah, Aunt Cherry, are you really going?’ he said, holding out his hand to her, while Edward stalked into the room like a ghost. Of all the party, Oswald was the least discomposed. Indeed, it rather pleased him, his vanity and his sense of fun being both excited. He had a kind of notion that Edward was jealous, and this added to his mischievous enjoyment. Where was the harm? ‘Yes, I am going away,’ said Miss Cherry, ‘and perhaps it is time--though I sometimes don’t know whether I ought to go or stay,’ she added, mournfully, with a glance at her niece. Cara had turned her back upon the company, and was in the other room arranging some music on the piano, with trembling fingers. She could not bear either reproach or laughter, for her shame was excessive, and out of all proportion to the magnitude of the offence, as was to be expected at her years. ‘Oh, you must not be uneasy about Cara,’ said Oswald, lightly. ‘Cara will be well taken care of. We will all take care of her. I must go now, Cara. Good morning. I am going to look after the business I have been telling you of. Why, there is nothing to make a bother about,’ he said, in an undertone. ‘Cara! crying! Why, what harm is done?’ ‘Oh, tell them, Oswald; if you have any pity for me, tell them!’ ‘Tell them what? There is nothing to tell. If they put foolish constructions on the simplest incident, it is not our fault. Good-by; only look unconcerned as I do; there is no possible harm done.’