"My resolution?" said the placid woman, placid now no longer, but starting to her feet, speaking with rapid energy, and seeming, for the moment, half a foot taller than usual--"My resolution is that you shall never marry the man whom I have heard you say that you loathe and detest--not if sacrificing myself can save you--not if I can prevent the wrong, by even taking his life!" "Aunt! Aunt I what are you saying!" broke out the young girl, surprised, and even horrified. "Do not say so, Aunt, for heaven's sake! I _do_ dislike Col. Bancker; I cannot marry him without misery; but his life! You do not know what words you use." "Do I not?" said the aunt, and there was a bitterness in her tone which her niece had never before heard there, and which perhaps no one else had heard there for many a long year. "Do I not? His life--pshaw! what is his life, or the life of any man, compared to some other lives that are sacrificed without punishment or even the knowledge of any crime being committed!" "Aunt, dear Aunt, it is for me that you are saying this, and you know that I thank you; but you are excited, you are not yourself--" "I _am_ myself--perhaps for the first time in years!" said the widow, the tones of her voice still betraying the same bitterness. "In the last half hour I have lived over again half a life-time of misery. Close that door!" And she pointed to the door leading into the front parlor, with a gesture of command that shamed her brother's most forcible attempt at dignity. Her niece closed the door, and stepped back to her chair. The aunt retained her standing position, and a part of the time walked the floor of the little back parlor with strides that the shorter limbs of Emily could not have compassed, as she went on: "I had you close that door because I did not wish to speak to the whole house: though the whole house might hear me without disadvantage to themselves. You do not know why I am so much excited: I will tell you. That man--your father and my brother--did an unwise thing in recalling the past by that brutal speech and that rough oath; but he did recall it, and he must take the consequences. I have said that you should not marry that man whom you detest, and you shall not--no matter how I prevent it! But do not mistake me, Emily! I am not arranging that you shall marry another man, and one whom your parents dislike. That is your business, not mine." "I will not marry against my parents' will or against yours," said Emily, as her aunt paused for a moment--"only prevent my marrying this man whom I dislike, without doing any crime!" "Hush, and listen to _me_!" said the aunt, almost sternly. "Do you think that it is of yourself alone that I am speaking? No--I am thinking and speaking more of myself than of you. Do you guess the riddle? No, you cannot. Emily, _I have myself once married a man whom I loathed, and I know what it means!_"