he whispered.

The brother and sister had always been chary of caresses, but now
Jerome drew Elmira close, pressed her little head against his
shoulder, and let her cry there.

"Don't, Elmira," he said, at length, brokenly, smoothing her hair.
"You know brother wants you to be happy. You are the only little
sister he's got."

"Oh, Jerome, I couldn't help it!" sobbed Elmira.

"Of course you couldn't," said Jerome. "Don't cry--I'll work hard and
save, and maybe I can get enough money to give you a house and
furniture when you're married, then you won't be quite so beholden."

"But you'll--get married yourself, Jerome," whispered Elmira, who had
built a romance about her brother and Lucina after the night of the
party.

"No, I shall never get married myself," said Jerome, "all my money is
for my sister." He laughed, but that night after Elmira was fast
asleep in her chamber across the way, he lay awake tasting to the
fullest his own cup of bitterness from its contrast with another's
sweet.

The longing to see Lucina, to have only the sight of her dear
beautiful face to comfort him, grew as the weeks went on, but he
would not yield to it. He had, however, to reckon against odds which
he had not anticipated, and they were the innocent schemes of Lucina
herself. She had hoped at first that his call was only deferred, that
he would come to see her of his own accord, but she soon decided that
he would not, and that all the advances must be from herself, since
she was undoubtedly at fault. She had fully resolved to make amends
for any rudeness and lack of cordiality of which she might have been
guilty, at the first opportunity she should have. She planned to
speak to him going home from meeting, or on some week day on the
village street--she had her little speech all ready, but the chance
to deliver it did not come.

But when she went to meeting Sunday after Sunday, dressed in her
prettiest, looking like something between a rose and an angel, and no
Jerome was there for her soft backward glances, and when she never
met him when she was alone on the village street, she grew impatient.

About this time Lucina's father bought her a beautiful little white
horse, like the milk-white palfrey of a princess in a fairy tale, and
she rode every day over the county. Usually Squire Eben accompanied
her on a tall sorrel which had been in his possession for years, but
still retained much youthful fire. The sorrel advanced with lo