A silence followed, during which he revolved the expediency of hinting at once at the designs of Blarden. As he thus paused, moodily plotting how best to open the subject, the unconscious girl stood beside him, and, looking fondly in his face, she said,—
"Dear brother, you must not be so sad. When all's done, what have we lost but some of the wealth which we can spare? We have still enough, quite enough. You shall live with your poor little sister, and I will take care of you, and read to you, and sing to you whenever you are sad; and we will walk together in the old green woods, and be far happier and merrier than ever we could have been in the midst of cold and heartless luxury and dissipation. Brother, dear brother, when shall we go to Incharden?"
"I can't say; I—I don't know that we shall go there at all," replied he, shortly.
Deep disappointment clouded the poor girl's face for a moment, but as instantly the sweet smile returned, and she laid her hand affectionately upon her brother's shoulder, and looked in his face.
"Well, dear brother, wherever you go, there is my home, and there I will be happy—as happy as being with the only creature that cares for me now can make me."
"Perhaps there are others who care for you—ay—even more than I do," said the young man deliberately, and fixing his eyes upon her searchingly, as he spoke.
"How, brother; what do you mean?" said the poor girl, faintly, and turning pale as death. "Have you seen—have you heard from——" She paused, trembling violently, and Ashwoode resumed,—
"No, no, child; I have neither seen nor heard from anyone whom you know anything of. Why are you so agitated? Pshaw! nonsense."
"I know not how it is, brother; I am depressed, and easily agitated to-day," rejoined she; "perhaps it is that I cannot forget a fearful dream which troubled me last night."
"Tut, tut, child," replied he; "I thought you had other matters to think of."