Notwithstanding this, however, these two—the brother who had fallen a victim to temptation, and the little new sister who had loved him and suffered for his sake—were to me more interesting, more powerful to move me, more capable of filling my heart with rejoicing, than were any other people in the room.
As to Cousin Tom—it is very strange, but I scarcely thought of Cousin Tom during that jovial meal. He was there—he was one of us; he was a most important factor in all the happiness; without him there would have been no happiness, no delightful sunshine of prosperity.
It seemed to me, however, as I shared the merry meal, and saw the faces of my own people looking their best and brightest, either that there was no room for Cousin Tom in my heart, or that his footing in it was so well-established that he was part of me already. I have thought of that happy evening often since, and I am quite sure now that the reason I gave so little separate thought to my cousin was, because I knew him so well.
After supper my father, George, Hetty, and Jack went off to explore the house. George was very polite to his new sister Hetty, and my father was glad to renew his intercourse with Jack.
“You will come with us, won’t you, Valentine?” asked George of my cousin.
“I will follow you in a few moments,” he answered.
George went away, and Tom and I were alone. He came up to me at once.
“I wish you quite to understand,” he said, speaking in a very composed and guarded sort of fashion, “that I don’t intend to take advantage of anything you may say on impulse. I love you; I loved you before I knew a word of that strange will of our old kinsman’s. The first day I saw you I felt that you were different from other women. Well, that is all. I think you believe me. I don’t want to say anything more on this matter at present. If Cousin Geoffrey had not made his queer will, I should have pressed my suit. As it is, I cannot.
“What I want to tell you now, however, is this, that you are absolutely free to choose your own time to marry me. There is to be no hurry, and no constraint is to be put upon you. I understand from Gray that you have yielded to the conditions of our cousin’s will for your mother’s sake. Gray is a right good fellow, and he appreciates your spirit of self-sacrifice. He has made it possible for us two to delay our marriage, and yet for your mother and your people not to suffer.”
“I know,” I answered, “I know. Mr Gray told me himself. But I—I don’t wish that.”