nobody else. She did not complain, but she thought that things had
been very hard with her; and when people repine their troubles do not
make them kinder, but the brave grow stern and the soft grow fretful.

All this had been over for nearly thirty years, and the brother and
the friend had both been long dead. Lady Barbara was very anxious to
do all that she thought right; and she was so wise and sensible, and
so careful of her sister Jane, that all the family respected her and
looked up to her. She thought she had quite forgiven all that had
passed: she did not know why it was so hard to her to take any
notice of her brother James's only son. Perhaps, if she had, she
would have forced herself to try to be more warm and kind to him, and
not have inflamed Lord Caergwent's displeasure when he married
imprudently. Her sister Jane had never known all that had passed:
she had been too ill to hear of it at the time; and it was not Lady
Barbara's way to talk to other people of her own troubles. But Jane
was always led by her sister, and never thought of people, or judged
events, otherwise than as Barbara told her; so that, kind and gentle
as she was by nature, she was like a double of her sister, instead of
by her mildness telling on the family counsels. The other brother,
Giles, had been aware of all, and saw how it was; but he was so much
younger than the rest, that he was looked on by them like a boy long
after he was grown up, and had not felt entitled to break through his
sister Barbara's reserve, so as to venture on opening out the sorrows
so long past, and pleading for his brother James's family, though he
had done all he could for them himself. He had indeed been almost
constantly on foreign service, and had seen very little of his
sisters.

Since their father's death, the two sisters had lived their quiet