Percy turned sharply towards him, as if in that moment he could be angry even with him; but Herbert met his fierce glance with a smile so full of affectionate interest, that all Percy’s displeasure and irritation seemed at once removed.

“Displeased with you!” exclaimed Percy, when involuntary admiration had taken the place of anger, and unconsciously the noble serenity of Herbert’s temper appeared to soothe the more irritable nature of his own.  “Ay, Herbert, when we two have exchanged characters, such may be, till then I am contented to love and reverence the virtue, the gentleness I cannot make my own.”

“We are better thus, my brother,” replied Herbert, feelingly; “were we the same, could I have been the happy being you have made me at college?  Much, very much happiness do I owe to your high spirit, Percy.  Without your support, my life, spite of the charms of study, would have been a painful void at college; and though I feel, you know not perhaps how often and how bitterly, that in many things I cannot hope to be your companion, yet to think my affection may sometimes check the violence that would lead you wrong, oh, that is all I can hope for or desire.”

“Have you not my love, my confidence, my fondest, warmest esteem?” exclaimed Percy, impetuously, and twining his arm, as in fondness he often did, around his brother’s neck.  “Is there one among my gay companions I love as you, though I appear to seek their society more?”

Herbert was silent.

“You do not doubt me, Herbert?”

“Percy—­no!” exclaimed the youth, with unwonted ardour.  To speak more at that moment he could not, and ere words came at his command, the library door slowly opened, and Caroline languidly entered.

Herbert somewhat hurriedly left the room, to conceal the agitation the interview with Percy had occasioned him.

For some little time Caroline remained in the library, seeking, it appeared, a book, without a word passing between her and Percy.  Both evidently wished to speak, but neither liked to begin; at length Caroline approached him.

“Percy,” she began, and her voice trembled sufficiently to prevent more.  Percy was softened.

“Well, dear Caroline, am I so very terrible you cannot speak to me?  I have been angry and unjust, and you, perhaps, a little too reserved; so now let us forgive and forget, as we did when we were children, and be friends for the future.”

He spoke with all his natural frankness, and extended his hand towards her.  Caroline’s spirits were so depressed, that the least word or token of kindness overcame her, and pressing her brother’s hand in both hers, she turned away her head to conceal the quickly-starting tears, and Percy continued, trying to smile—­

“Well, Caroline, will you not tell me what you were going to say?  I cannot quite penetrate your thoughts.”

Again Caroline hesitated, but then with an effort she said, fixing her heavy eyes on her brother’s face—­