"But I am _not_. How should _I_ be mistaken? When a mother buries her child deep in the grave-yard, does she forget what mothers' love is? Those who forget their youth in happiness may be deceived. I never can!" "And you think he loves me?" Mary leaned forward and laid her clasped hands pleadingly on the knotted fingers of the old maid. Aunt Hannah looked down almost tenderly through her spectacles, and a smile crept over her mouth. "_I_ know he loves you." Mary Fuller's radiant face drooped forward at these words, and she fell to kissing these old hands eagerly, as if the knotted veins were filled with honey dew upon which her heart feasted. "Stop, stop!" said aunt Hannah, withdrawing her hands, and laying them softly on the bowed head of her protege, "don't give way so; remember Joseph is very feeble yet, from the fever that nearly cost him his life, and that he has nothing to live on but what he calls his art; Nathan and I might help him, but we have only a few acres of land to live on, and are getting older every day. There is not the strength of one robust man among us all--to say nothing of the poor girl up stairs." "But he loves me. Oh! aunt, you are sure of that?" "But how can he marry you, poor as he is, with no more power to work than a child?" "Marry me! I never thought of that," said the girl, lifting her face all in a glow from her hands, "but he will live here always, and so will I. Morning and night, and all day long I shall see him, hear his music, watch the changes of his beautiful, beautiful face. You may grow old as fast as you like, you and uncle Nat; I can support you, he will teach me to paint pictures, and we can sell them in the city. Besides, Joseph can make music on the violin, and I have learned to write it out on paper. The rich people in New York will give money for music and pictures like his, I know; you shall not work so hard after this, aunt Hannah; and as for uncle Nat, he shall snooze in his easy-chair all day long if he likes." Aunt Hannah shook her head, and a mist stole over her spectacles. She was getting very childish in her old age, that stern old maid. "You are a nice girl, Mary," she said, "and mean right, I know. But Joseph will never be content to let you support him if you had the strength. He is very manly and proud with all his softness." "I know it, aunt, but then remember I am like his sister." "But sisters do not support their brothers, and men do not like to take favors where they ought to give them." "Oh! aunt Hannah, you make me so unhappy. What difference can it make which does the work where two people love each other?" "This," answered the old maid; "women were born to look upward with their hearts and cling to others for support--men were made to give this support. You cannot change places and be happy!" "I see, I see," murmured Mary Fuller, thoughtfully, "but Joseph will get well again; only think how much better he is since he came to the Old Homestead."