fact that something was troubling her brother. And it was such an
unusual thing to see signs of so prolonged disturbance in him that she
became anxious to know the cause. Still she could not speak of it first.
Intimate as they were, the inner feelings of each were very sacred to
the other, and she must wait until he should choose to reveal all to
her.

She well knew that his heart had been wholly consecrated to the only
love it had heretofore known, and the query had often arisen in her mind
whether the approach of another affection might not in the first place
work some unhappiness. That he could ever love again as he had loved
Margaret she did not for a moment believe. She well knew, however, that
the happiness of any woman who might give her life into her brother's
keeping was safe, and her wish for him was that he might be so drawn
toward some loving woman that he might desire to make her his wife, and
so be blessed with family life and love; for the thought that he might
live lonely, without family ties, was inexpressibly sad to her loving
heart.

We have seen how the coming of Miss Sherman into their lives roused
these hopes afresh; and she now wondered if his evident unrest might be
caused by the first suggestion of the thought of asking her to become
his wife. It was evident that he admired her and enjoyed her society;
and, so far as Miss Sherman's feelings were concerned, she felt no
doubt. Indeed, she sometimes shrank a bit from the free display of her
fondness for his company, and hoped that Malcom and the girls might not
notice it. She easily excused it, however, to herself, although the
closer intimacy of daily intercourse was revealing, little by little,
flaws in the character she had thought so fair.