"You have a great many beautiful things."
"Yes," she answered softly, "they were given to me by a--a friend."
"She must have had a great many," observed Ruth, admiring one of the
rugs.
A delicate pink suffused Miss Ainslie's face. "My friend," she said,
with quiet dignity, "is a seafaring gentleman."
That explained the rugs, Ruth thought, and the vase, of finest
Cloisonne, which stood upon the mantel-shelf. It accounted also for the
bertha of Mechlin lace, which was fastened to Miss Ainslie's gown, of
lavender cashmere, by a large amethyst inlaid with gold and surrounded
by baroque pearls.
For some little time, they talked of Miss Hathaway and her travels. "I
told her she was too old to go," said Miss Ainslie,. smiling, "but she
assured me that she could take care of herself, and I think she can.
Even if she couldn't, she is perfectly safe. These 'personally conducted'
parties are by far the best, if one goes alone, for the first time."
Ruth knew that, but she was surprised, nevertheless. "Won't you tell me
about my aunt, Miss Ainslie?" she asked. "You know I've never seen her."
"Why, yes, of course I will! Where shall I begin?"
"At the beginning," answered Ruth, with a little laugh.
"The beginning is very far away, deary," said Miss Ainslie, and Ruth
fancied she heard a sigh. "She came here long before I did, and we were
girls together. She lived in the old house at the top of the hill, with
her father and mother, and I lived here with mine. We were very intimate
for a long time, and then we had a quarrel, about something that was
so silly and foolish that I cannot even remember what it was. For five
years--no, for almost six, we passed each other like strangers, because
each was too proud and stubborn to yield. But death, and trouble,
brought us together again."
"Who spoke first," asked Ruth, much interested, "you or Aunt Jane?"
"It was I, of course. I don't believe she would have done it. She was
always stronger than I, and though I can't remember the cause of the
quarrel, I can feel the hurt to my pride, even at this day."
"I know," answered Ruth, quickly, "something of the same kind once
happened to me, only it wasn't pride that held me back--it was just
plain stubbornness. Sometimes I am conscious of two selves--one of me
is a nice, polite person that I'm really fond of, and the other is so
contrary and so mulish that I'm actually afraid of her. When the two
come in conflict, the stubborn one always wins. I'm sorry, but I can't
help it."
"Don't you think we're all like that?" asked Miss Ainslie, readily
understanding. "I do not believe any one can have strength of character
without being stubborn. To hold one's position in the face of obstacles,
and never be tempted to yield--to me, that seems the very foundation."