her love for him, which was a very
unsatisfactory mode of proceeding, as he would far rather have had
her interest in the girl founded on reason, or some less personal
basis than showing it merely because her brother wished it.

The coach came slowly rumbling over the stony road. His sister was
outside, but got down in a brisk active way, and greeted her brother
heartily and affectionately. She was considerably taller than he was,
and must have been very handsome; her black hair was parted plainly
over her forehead, and her dark, expressive eyes and straight nose
still retained the beauty of her youth. I do not know whether she
was older than her brother, but, probably owing to his infirmity
requiring her care, she had something of a mother's manner towards
him.

"Thurstan, you are looking pale! I do not believe you are well,
whatever you may say. Have you had the old pain in your back?"

"No--a little--never mind that, dearest Faith. Sit down here, while
I send the boy up with your box." And then, with some little desire
to show his sister how well he was acquainted with the language,
he blundered out his directions in very grammatical Welsh; so
grammatical, in fact, and so badly pronounced, that the boy,
scratching his head, made answer,

"Dim Saesoneg."

So he had to repeat it in English.

"Well now, Thurstan, here I sit as you bid me. But don't try me too
long; tell me why you sent for me."

Now came the difficulty, and oh! for a seraph's tongue, and a
seraph's powers of representation! but there was no seraph at hand,
only the soft running waters singing a quiet tune, and predisposing
Miss Benson to listen with a soothed spirit to any tale, not
immediately involving her brother's welfare, which had been the cause
of her seeing that lovely vale.

"It is an awkward story to tell, Faith, but there is a young woman
lying ill at my lodgings whom I wanted you to nurse."

He thought he saw a shadow on his sister's face, and detected a
slight change in her voice as she spoke.

"Nothing very romantic, I hope, Thurstan. Remember, I cannot stand
much romance; I always distrust it."

"I don't know what you mean by romance. The story is real enough, and
not out of the common way, I'm afraid."

He paused; he did not get over the difficulty.

"Well, tell it me at once, Thurstan. I am afraid you have let some
one, or perhaps only your own imagination, impose upon you; but don't
try my patience too much; you know