"he was his mother's own son, and deserved to be!"

CHAPTER XXV.

That thee is sent receive in buxomness;
The wrestling of this worlde askith a fall;
Here is no home, here is but wildernesse,
Forthe, pilgrim, forthe, o best out of thy stall,
Loke up on high, and thanke thy God of all.
CHAUCER.

As soon as she was awake Winnie sought her brother's side
again; and from that moment never left it when it was possible
to be there. In his arms, if she could; close by his side, if
nearer might not be; she seemed to have no freedom of life but
in his shadow. Her very grief was quieted there; either taking
its tone from his calm strength, or binding itself with her
own love for him. Her brother was the sturdy tree round which
this poor little vine threw its tendrils, and climbed and
flourished, all it could.

He had but a few days to spend at Shahweetah now. Towards the
end of them, she was one evening sitting, as usual, on his
knee; silent and quiet. They were alone.

"Winnie," said her brother, "what shall I do with you?"

She put her arms round his neck and kissed him, -- a very
frequent caress; but she made no answer.

"Shall I take you to Mannahatta with me?"

"Oh yes, Winthrop!"

It was said with breathless eagerness.

"I am almost afraid to do it."

"Why, Winthrop?"

"Hush --" he said gently; for her words came out with a sort of
impatient hastiness; -- "You don't know what kind of a place it
is, Winnie. It isn't much like what home used to be."

"Nor this aint, neither," she murmured, nestling her head in
his bosom.

"But you wouldn't have the free air and country -- I am afraid
it wouldn't be so good for you."

"Yes it would -- it would be better for me. -- I can't hardly be
good at all, Governor, except where you are. I get cross now-
a-days -- it seems I can't help it -- and I didn't use to do so
--"

How gently the hand that was not round her was laid upon her
cheek, as if at once forbidding and soothing her sorrow. For
it was true, -- Winnie's disease had wrought to make her
irritable and fretful, very different from her former self.
And it was true that Winthrop's presence governed it, as no
other thing could.

"Would you rather go with me, Winnie?"

"Oh yes, Governor! --oh yes!"

"Then you shall."

He went himself first to make arrangements, which he well knew
were very necessary. That one little attic room of his and
that closet which was at once Mother Hubbard's cupboard a