"Why, no, brother; he is not a thing, is he?"
"Well, perhaps not; but what is it you do not like?"
"Why, I don't like to have the girls tease me, and say he comes to our school just to see me," said Winnie, averting her face.
Wayland's brow darkened at these words, and he was some time silent.
"Are you angry, brother?" asked Winnie at length.
"No, Winnie, not angry, but pained. My sister, this young Camford is not a fit person for you to associate with."
"Why not?" exclaimed Winnie.
Wayland gazed in her face, and felt it was time to speak. "Winnie, would you have for a friend the son of a man who robbed your father of his fortune and hurried him into the grave?"
She was silent. "Adieu now, sister," continued Wayland, "I will call and see you to-morrow evening," and with a tender kiss on the soft cheek, he left her in her first young, girlish love-sorrow. Bitterly she charged him with cold, unfeeling cruelty; for she intuitively perceived the drift of those few words. "But was her poor Jack to suffer for his father's errors? No; thrice no! and she longed to lay her head on his bosom and tell him all her sorrows, for he was not stern and cruel, like brother Wayland. No, he loved her dearly, as she loved him."