his brother's way; and though Edward had agreed loyally to accept what he supposed to be the state of affairs and school himself to look upon Cara as his future sister, that was no reason—indeed it was rather the reverse of a reason—for avoiding her now. He went up-stairs with a kind of sweet unhappiness in his heart. If Cara was not for him, he must put up with it; he must try to be glad if she had chosen according to her own happiness. But in the mean time he would try to forget that, and take what pleasure heaven might afford him in her society—a modified imperfect happiness with an aftertaste of bitterness in it—but still better than no consolation at all.
Cara was with her aunt in the drawing-room, and they both welcomed him with smiles. Miss Cherry, indeed, was quite effusive in her pleasure.
"Come and tell us all the news and amuse us," she said; "that is the chief advantage of having men about. My brother is no good, he never goes out; and if he did go out, he never comes upstairs. I thought Oswald would have come this evening," Miss Cherry said, in a tone which for her sounded querulous; and she looked from one to the other of the young people with a curious look. She was not pleased to be left out of Cara's confidence, and when they excused Oswald with one breath, both explaining eagerly that they had known of his engagement, Miss Cherry was if anything worse offended still. Why should not they be open, and tell everything? she thought.
"Besides," said Cara, very calmly, "Oswald never comes here in the evening: he has always so many places to go to, and his club. Edward is too young to have a club. Why should people go out always at night? Isn't it pleasant to stay at home?"
"My dear, gentlemen are not like us," said Miss Cherry, instinctively defending the absent, "and to tell the truth, when I have been going to the play or to a party—I mean in my young days—I used to like to see the lighted streets—all the shops shining, and the people thronging past on the pavement. I am afraid it was a vulgar taste ; but I liked it. And men, who can go where they please I am very sorry that your mamma has a headache, Edward. She is not seeing any one? I wonder what James" Here she stopped abruptly and looked conscious, feeling that to discuss her brother with these young persons would be very foolish. Fortunately they were occupied with each other and did not pay much attention to what she said.
"Oh, Edward," said Cara, "stay and read to us! there is nothing I like so much. It is always dull here in the evenings, much duller than at the Hill, except when we go out. And Aunt Cherry has her work, and so have I. Sit here—here is a comfortable chair close to the lamp. You have nothing particular to do, and if your mother has a headache, she does not want you."
"I don't require to be coaxed," said Edward, his face glowing with pleasure; and then a certain pallor stole over it as he said to himself, "She is treating me like her brother;" but even that was pleasant, after a sort. "I am quite willing to read," he said; "what shall it be? Tell me what book you like best."
"Poetry," said Cara; "don't you like poetry, Aunt Cherry? There is a novel there; but I prefer Tennyson. Mr. Browning is a little too hard for me. Aunt Cherry, Edward is very good when he reads out loud. You would like to hear 'Elaine'?"
"Ye-es," said Miss Cherry. She cast a regretful glance at the novel, which was fresh from Mudie's; but soon cheered up, reflecting that she was half through the second volume, and that it would not be amusing to begin it over again. "In my young days stories would bear reading two or three times over," she said, unconsciously following out her own thought; "but they have fallen off like everything else. Yes, my dear, I am always fond of poetry. Let me get my work. It is the new kind of art-needlework, Edward. I don't know if you have seen any of it. It is considered a great deal better in design than the Berlin work we used to do, and it is a very easy stitch, and goes quickty. That is what I like in it. I must have the basket with all my crewels, Cara, and my scissors and my thimble, before he begins. I hate interrupting any one who is reading. But you are only hemming, my dear. You might have prettier work for the drawing-room. I think girls should always have some pretty work in hand; don't you think so, Edward? It is pleasanter to look at than that plain piece of white work."
"I should think anything that Cara worked at pretty," said Edward, forgetting precaution. Miss Cherry looked up at him suddenly with a little alarm, but Cara, who was searching for the crewels, and the thimble and the scissors, on a dis-
