"You need not tell me, Margaret," continued Henry; "I know and see how it is with you and Ralph. But only speak, dear girl--only let me know how this came about. Has he sought you eagerly? Has he taught you to conceal this from my father and me till this moment? Has he instilled into your mind lessons of concealment from those who love you best? Has he taken advantage of my father's kindness secretly to win your heart, without a brother's knowledge, and against a parent's will?"
"Oh heavens, no! No, no," cried Margaret, raising her head and gazing on her brother's face; and then, with warm, impetuous words, which I can not repeat, for they were all confused, almost incoherent, but all very natural, she poured forth the whole tale of her love, showing how, from early years, almost from infancy, she and Ralph had become attached to each other; how little kindnesses, and some important services, and frequent communication, and the interchange of mutual thought, had ripened early regard into fraternal affection, and warmed fraternal affection into mature love. Then she told him how by the merest accident, their mutual feelings had become known to each other, and how they had trembled, and dreaded, and agreed that it was in vain to hope, and had determined to part; how, in consequence of this resolution, Ralph had remained one whole vacation at his college; and how they fancied, in the end, they could meet calmly, and forget their love; and how, when they did meet, they found that passion was stronger than reason, and that it was in vain to hope that the memory of first true love could ever be obliterated. Then she added that Ralph had determined to go forth and seek his fortune, lighted on his way by the hope of winning her, and how he had not even bound her by any engagement, except that deep, strong bond of the heart, which she fondly fancied could never be severed; and then she once more hid her face on her brother's bosom, and tears told the rest.
Henry was a great deal moved. "His crime is not so great," he said, thoughtfully.
"Crime! crime!" repeated Margaret; "what do you mean, Henry?"
"Yes, crime," answered her brother; "for it is a crime, Margaret, to trifle with affections such as yours."
As he held her to his heart, he felt her shudder at the confirmation of the fears she herself had entertained. But Henry went on, determined to say all at once, in order to spare the pain of after explanations.
"There is more besides this, Margaret," he said; "more besides his conduct to you and Lady Danvers. There are other affections he can trifle with--other hearts he can break, Margaret. I am moved by no pride, no family prejudice, no desire of wealth. You could be happy with small means with a man who deserved you; but I tell you, my dear sister, you must think of this man no more, for he deserves you not."
"Other hearts he can break!" said Margaret, in a low, sad tone; "I do not comprehend you, Henry."
"There, read that letter, Margaret," said her brother, putting the billet he had received from their cousin into his sister's hands.
Margaret gazed at it, read it by fits and snatches, and then said, "I know not what this means--Kate Stilling! Who is Kate Stilling?"