independence of manner, which sat well upon him; and his aunt sometimes checked herself, when about to reprove him for the omission of some unimportant form of politeness, which in her days of youth was essential. Ellen dwelt with delight upon the approaching time, when she would be mistress of her brother's establishment, and as important as she longed to be, on that account. Though she looked upon her uncle's house as a large cage, in which she had long fluttered a prisoner, she could not but feel an affection for it; her aunt and uncle often formal, and uselessly particular, were always substantially kind. It was a good, though not a cheerful home, and the young look for joy and gaiety, as do the flowers for birds and sunshine. Ellen was to be a ward of her uncle's until she was of age, but was to be permitted to reside with her brother, if she wished, from the time he assumed the management of his estate.
The young people laid many plans for housekeeping. William had not any love affair in progress, and as yet his sister's image was stamped on all his projects for the future.
Two years before Ellen came to Exeter, William stood under his sister's window, asking her what he should bring her from C----, the neighboring town. "Don't you want some needles," he said, "or a waist ribbon, or some candy? make haste, Ellen; if I don't hurry, I can't come home to-night."
"I don't want any thing, Willie; but will you be sure to return to-night? I never sleep well when you are away. Aunt and I are going on Tuesday to C----; wait and we will stay all night then."
"Oh, no," said William, "I must go; but you may depend upon my being back: I always keep my promises. So good-by."
Ellen leaned from the window, watching her handsome brother as he rode down the avenue leading into the road
