THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC.

VOL.  II.

CHAPTER I.

Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is! and trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman!  WINTER’S TALE.

Poor Winnie held to her resolution, though half unconsciously and quite involuntarily.  She did not enjoy her ride, and therefore did not seem to enjoy it; for it was not in her nature to seem other than she was.  Neither did she take or shew any but a very qualified pleasure in Miss Haye’s company; and for this reason or for others Miss Haye made her visits few.

But this did not a bit help the main question; and in the want of data and the absence of all opportunity for making observations, Winnie had full chance to weary herself with fancies and fears.  She could not get courage enough to say anything about Miss Haye again to her brother; and he never spoke of her.  There was no change in him; he was always as careful of his little sister; always bestowed his time upon her in the same way; was always at home in the evenings.  Unless when, very rarely, he made an arrangement that she should spend one with Mrs. Nettley and Mr. Inchbald.  These times were seldom; and Winnie generally knew where he was going and that it was not to Mr. Haye’s.  But she was not sure of the integrity of her possession of him; and that want of security opened the sluice-gates to a flood-tide of wearisome possibilities; and Winnie’s nervous and morbid sensibilities made the most of them.  It was intolerable, to think that Winthrop should love anybody as he did her; that he should love anybody better, happily for Winnie, never entered her imaginings.  She could not endure to think that those lips, which were to her the sweetest of earthly things, should touch any other cheek or mouth but her own.  They were hers.  It was bitter as wormwood to think that his strong arm could ever hold and guide another as it held and guided his little sister.  “But guide? —­ she’d never let him guide her!” —­ said Winnie in a great fit of sisterly indignation.  And her thoughts would tumble and toss the matter about, till her cheek was in a flush; she was generally too eager to cry.  It wore upon her; she grew thinner and more haggard; but nobody knew the cause and no one could reach the remedy.

With all this the end of summer came, and Rufus.  He came to establish himself under Mr. Haye’s direction.  “For the time,” —­ as Winthrop told Winnie, when she asked him if Rufus was going to turn merchant.  And when she asked him further “what for?” —­ he answered that Rufus was a spice merchant and dealt in variety.  With the end of autumn came Winthrop’s admission to the bar.

And Winnie drew a mental long breath.  Winthrop was a lawyer himself, and no longer in a lawyer’s office.  Winthrop had an office of his own.  The bark was shoved from the shore, with her sails set; and Winnie, no more than her brother, doubted not that the gales of prosperity would soon fill them.  Rufus was greatly amused with her.