"Yes, he has been here several times since his return."
"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?"
She hesitated, but at length replied,
"He has."
"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?"
"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all."
"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?"
"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they passed by.
I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, I entered.
"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone.