“He has been speaking to me again,” she said, in an agitated voice. “He has dared to follow me and persecute me; and he calls it love—love!” with immeasurable contempt in her tone; “and when I tell him that it is ungenerous and wrong, he complains that I have robbed him of all peace. Fern, I know he is your brother, and that I ought not to speak against him; but how am I to help hating him?”
“Oh, no!” with a shudder, for Fern’s gentle nature was not capable of Crystal’s passion; “you must not hate poor Percy—he can not help loving you.”
“A poor sort of love,” returned Crystal, scornfully; “a love that partakes too much of the owner’s selfishness to be to my taste. Fern, how can he be your mother’s son? he has not a grain of her noble, frank nature, and from all accounts he does not take after your father.”
“But he is very clever, Crystal, and Mr. Erle says he is really kind-hearted,” returned Fern, in a troubled tone; “people admire and like him, and there are many and many girls, Mr. Erle says, would be ready to listen to him. He is very handsome, even you must allow that, and it is not the poor boy’s fault if he has lost his heart to you.”
Crystal smiled at this sisterly defense, but the next moment she said, tenderly:
“You are such a little angel of goodness yourself, Fern, that you never think people are to blame—you would always excuse them if you could; you have so little knowledge of the world, and have led such a recluse life that you hardly know how rigid society really is; but I should have thought that even you would have thought it wrong for your brother to come here so often in your mother’s absence and bring his friend with him; it is taking advantage of two defenseless girls to intrude himself and Mr. Erle on us in this way.”
“But Percy never knows when mother is out,” replied Fern, in a puzzled tone.
Crystal was silent; she held a different opinion, but after all she need not put these ideas into Fern’s innocent mind. It was her own conviction that Percy in some way was always aware of his mother’s absence. At first he had come alone, and now he always brought Erle with him, and she wanted to say a word that might put Fern on her guard; but at the present moment she was too full of her own grievance.
“You know, Fern,” she continued, in a very grave voice, “if this goes on and your brother refuses to hear reason, I shall be obliged to seek another home, where I shall be free from his unmanly persecution; yes”—as Fern uttered an incredulous exclamation—“though I love you all so dearly, and have grown to look upon this as a home, I shall be forced to go a second time into the world.”
“But Percy must hear reason,” returned Fern, tearfully. “I will ask mother to talk to him, and I know Mr. Erle has given him hints. We can not part with you, Crystal. I have never had a companion of my own age before, and mother is so often out.”