For a long time Frank refused to give any explanation of his conduct; but at length told his mother that he would agree to treat her as a sister, if she would be content with that.
"What can she ask more?" inquired mother, in surprise.
Frank, like any boy of sixteen, blushed crimson, as he replied, impulsively: "She is altogether too sentimental for me. She can talk about nothing but love, and such nonsense. When the time comes for me to be married, I mean to do the courting myself."
Mother was silent, from amazement, and tried to recall a single circumstance to corroborate his statement. "I hardly know how to believe it of Fidelia," she at length replied.
"Mother," said Frank "if you do not believe me, enter suddenly and unexpectedly into the library or anywhere we may chance to be left alone a moment, and you will see enough."
"Why, she runs her fingers through my hair, and she sits by me and looks up in my face in a fawning manner. Bah!" he continued, "it's too disgusting. If she hears the least sound, she darts back to her seat, and there she sits as demure and proper as any old maid. I often wish," he added, half laughing, "she'd get caught at some of her fooleries."
After this, mother kept a strict surveillance of the conduct of her niece, and soon became convinced that she was a dangerous companion for her son, especially as she paid not the slightest regard to truth. She therefore sent her away to a family-school, where she was under the constant watch of her teacher. But she could not prevent Frank meeting her occasionally, as they both spent their holidays at home; and she confessed to me that she should have shuddered for the virtue of her son, had he not exhibited such a loathing for the character of his cousin. The time came when she must leave school, and her conduct had become so reprehensible that mother would not consent that Emily should be under her influence; and she has resided, until her marriage, with a distant relative in the State of New York.
It was thus that Frank had not met her for several years, and as they were both married, he had been willing to forget the past, and treat her at least with kindness. But having had reason to know her want of principle, he feels he had no excuse for giving heed to her cruel hints and falsehoods. We have tacitly agreed to let her name be forgotten, and I devoutly hope I shall never have occasion to remember it.