“I agree with him there, at any rate.  You are nineteen years of age; he twenty-five.  Your property is unincumbered, and can be transferred to your keeping at very short notice.  Mr. Chiiton represents that his income from his patrimonial estate, eked out by professional gains, is sufficient to warrant him in marrying forthwith.  I shall see that no time is lost in making the inquiries upon which depends the progress of the negotiation.  Business calls me North in a week or ten days.  I shall stop a day in Philadelphia, and settle your affair.”

The frightfully business-like manner of disposing of her happiness appalled the listener into silence.  The loss of Frederic; the destruction of her love-dream; the weary years of lonely wretchedness that would follow the bereavement, were to him only unimportant incidentals to her “affair;” weighed in the scale of his impartial judgment no more than would unconsidered dust.  For the first time in the life to which he had been the guiding-star, she ventured to wonder if the unswerving rectitude that had elevated him above the level of other men, in her esteem and affection, were so glorious a thing after all; if a tempering, not of human frailty, but of charity for the shortcomings, sympathy for the needs, of ordinary mortals, would not subdue the effulgence of his talents and virtues into mild lustre, more tolerable to the optics of fallible beholders

Unsuspicious, with all his astuteness, of her sacrilegious doubts, Winston proceeded: 

“In the event of your marriage, you would desire, no doubt, that Mrs. Sutton should take up her abode with you?  You would find her useful in many ways, and she would get on amicably with her husband’s godson.”

“I do not think she expects to go with me,” answered Mabel, staggered by his coolly confident air.  “I certainly have never entertained the idea.  I imagined that she would remain with you, while you needed her services.”

“That will not be long.  I shall be married on the 10th of October.”

“Married! brother!” starting up in amazement.  “You are not in earnest!”

“I should not jest upon such a theme,” replied Winston, in grave rebuke.  “My plans are definitely laid.  It is not my purpose to keep them secret a day longer.  I meant to communicate them to yourself and Mrs. Sutton this afternoon, but yours claimed precedence.”

Mabel sat down again, totally confounded, and struggling hard with her tears.  The thought of her brother’s marriage was not in itself disagreeable.  She had often lamented his insensibility to the attractions of such women as she fancied would add to his happiness, and grace the high place to which his wife would be exalted.  She never liked to hear him called invulnerable; repelled the hypothesis of his incurable bachelorhood as derogatory to his heart and head.  This unlooked-for intelligence, had it reached her in a different way, would have delighted as much as it astonished her.