second to that which I place on my dear father's; for this is a subject on
which there ought to be no concealment between _us_. It is impossible that
one as manly, as upright, as honest I will say, as yourself, can have
lived so long in close intimacy with Rupert, and not be aware that he has
marked defects of character."

"I have long known that he is capricious," I answered, unwilling to be
severe on the faults of Lucy's brother, to Lucy's own ear; "perhaps I
might add, that I have known he pays too much attention to fashion, and
the opinions of fashionable people."

"Nay, as _we_ cannot deceive ourselves, let us not attempt the ungrateful
task of endeavouring to deceive each other," that true-hearted girl
replied, though she said this with so great an effort, that I was
compelled to listen attentively to catch all she uttered. "Rupert has
failings worse than these. He is mercenary; nor is he always a man of
truth. Heaven knows, how I have wept over these defects of character, and
the pain they have given me from childhood! But, my dear, dear father
overlooks them all--or, rather, seeing them, he hopes all things; it is
hard for a parent to believe a child irreclaimable."

I was unwilling to let Lucy say any more on this subject, for her voice,
her countenance, I might almost say her whole figure showed how much it
cost her to say even this much of Rupert. I had long known that Lucy did
not respect her brother as much as she could wish; but this was never
before betrayed to me in words, nor in any other manner, indeed, that
would not have eluded the observation of one who knew the parties less
thoroughly than myself. I could perceive that she felt the awful
consequences she foresaw from her brother's conduct gave me a claim on her
sincerity, and that she was suffering martyrdom, in order to do all that