"Sweet angel, I adore you! I—"
"Helen, I want you a moment," said the distinct, low voice of my aunt, close beside us. And I left him, muttering maledictions against his evil angel.
"Well aunt, what is it? What do you want?" said I, following her to the embrasure of the window.
"I want you to join the company, when you are fit to be seen," returned she, severely regarding me; "but please to stay here a little till that shocking colour is somewhat abated, and your eyes have recovered something of their natural expression. I should be ashamed for any one to see you in your present state."
Of course, such a remark had no effect in reducing the "shocking colour;" on the contrary, I felt my face glow with redoubled fires kindled by a complication of emotions, of which indignant, swelling anger was the chief. I offered no reply, however, but pushed aside the curtain and looked into the night—or rather, into the lamp-lit square.
