"But all this is not Walter's fault, uncle," said Alice.
"Assuredly not; but there is something due to our long established opinions. Walter should go to a new country, where these things are not known, and where his education and talents would advance him. Here they are too fresh in the memory of many. Yet do I feel most kindly towards him, though he rather repels the interest we take in him by his haughty coldness of manner. The attachment between him and my son from their infancy draws me towards him. Arthur writes, though, that his letters are very reserved and not frequent. What can be the meaning of it?"
"There was always a want of candor and generosity in Walter's disposition," remarked Alice's mother.
"You never liked him, Anna," said Mr. Weston; "why was it?"
"Arthur and Walter contrast so strongly," answered Mrs. Weston. "Arthur was always perfectly honest and straight-forward, even as a little child; though quiet in his way of showing it, he is so affectionate in his disposition. Walter is passionate and fickle, condescending to those he loves, but treating with a proud indifference every one else. I wonder he does not go abroad, he has the command of his fortune now, and here he can never be happily situated; no woman of delicacy would ever think of marrying him with that stain on his birth."
"How beautiful his mother was, Cousin Janet!" said Mr. Weston. "I have never seen more grace and refinement. I often look at Walter, and recall her, with her beautiful brown hair and blue eyes. How short her course was, too! I think she died at eighteen."
"Do tell me about her, uncle," said Alice.
"Cousin Janet can, better than I, my darling. Have you never told Alice her history, cousin?"
"No, it is almost too sad a tale for Alice's ear, and there is something holy, in my mind, in the recollection of
