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By degrees I waxed more warm and tender than, perhaps, I had ever been before; but still I said nothing tangible, and she attempted no repulse, until, in passing a moss rose-tree that I had brought her some weeks since, in my sister’s name, she plucked a beautiful half-open bud and bade me give it to Rose. ‘May I not keep it myself?’ I asked. ‘No; but here is another for you.’
‘You are neither of you worthy of a broken heart,—nor of all the sighs, and tears, and sorrowful thoughts that have been, and I fear will be, wasted upon you both; but, at present, each has a more exalted opinion of the other than, I fear, he or she deserves; and my sister’s feelings are naturally full as keen as yours, and I believe more constant; but she has the good sense and fortitude to strive against them in this particular; and I trust she will not rest till she has entirely weaned her thoughts—‘ he hesitated.
She was not desirous to mix up your name in the matter, of course, but her delight was, and still is, to blacken your sister’s character to the utmost of her power, without risking too greatly the exposure of her own malevolence!’ ‘I cannot believe it,’ interrupted my companion, his face burning with indignation.
"As I would recognize mine own in the polished brass, as I do know my father’s sister’s son! for such was he, who lies thus foully slaughtered. Alas! alas! my countryman! wo! wo! for thee, my Medon!
In the heart of the maiden there stirred a something which she did not quite understand, something brought to life by the sight of her sister’s daguerreotype lying at the edge of the valence, where it must have fallen from David’s pocket without his knowledge as he lay asleep.
What a living picture does it give us of this remarkable family!—the elder sister’s wakeful anxiety—the younger’s calm determination—the brother’s half-suppressed yet deeply-moved tenderness—the proud and sensitive reserve of all the three. Jacqueline’s firmness was heroic, but her heart was full of concern.
So Fanny sat down to her writing desk, and the few lines proved to be a long letter ere she had finished. It was a most touchingly sad letter, and ought to have drawn tears from Julia, instead of forcing the malicious smile which played around her mouth while reading her sister’s effusion.
Would he speak that precious word “dear” to her again to-day? Would he take her by the hand and lead her sometimes, or was that a special gentleness because he knew she had suffered from her sister’s words? She clasped her hands with a quick, convulsive gesture over her heart and looking back to the sweet face in the glass, said softly, “Oh, I love him, love him!
All this came out of her like an unctuous trickle of some acrid oil. The low, voluble delivery was enough by itself to compel my attention. “You think you know your sister’s heart,” I asked. She made small eyes at me to discover if I was angry. She seemed to have an invincible faith in the virtuous dispositions of young men.
I feared, at first, he was going to torture me by unsatisfactory replies, and either leave me quite in the dark concerning what I wanted to know, or force me to drag the information out of him, morsel by morsel, by direct inquiries. ‘And serve you right,’ you will say; but he was more merciful; and in a little while he put his sister’s letter into my hand.
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