caresses.

"Don't," said she. "It's no use trying to make me forget poor Willie
is a natural. I could hate myself for being happy with you, even for
just a little minute. Go away, and leave me to face it out."

"And you'll think it over, Susan, and remember what the doctor says?"

"I can't forget," said she. She meant she could not forget what the
doctor had said about the hopelessness of her brother's case; Michael
had referred to the plan of sending Willie to an asylum, or madhouse,
as they were called in that day and place. The idea had been
gathering force in Michael's mind for some time; he had talked it
over with his father, and secretly rejoiced over the possession of
the farm and land which would then be his in fact, if not in law, by
right of his wife. He had always considered the good penny her
father could give her in his catalogue of Susan's charms and
attractions. But of late he had grown to esteem her as the heiress
of Yew Nook. He, too, should have land like his brother--land to
possess, to cultivate, to make profit from, to bequeath. For some
time he had wondered that Susan had been so much absorbed in Willie's
present, that she had never seemed to look forward to his future,
state. Michael had long felt the boy to be a trouble; but of late he
had absolutely loathed him. His gibbering, his uncouth gestures, his
loose, shambling gait, all irritated Michael inexpressibly. He did
not come near the Yew Nook for a couple of days. He thought that he
would leave her time to become anxious to see him and reconciled to
his plan. They were strange lonely days to Susan. They were the
first she had spent face to face with the sorrows that had turned her
from a girl into a woman; for hitherto Michael had never let twenty-