to tell him about it.

But she did not; she could not do so--though why she could not was a
mystery to herself. Sometimes she fancied there was that in Arthur's
manner which prevented her from pursuing the subject, when an
opportunity seemed to offer. When he was not there, she was quite sure
it was only her own fancy, but no sooner was the name of Grove
mentioned; than the fancy returned, till the very sight of the Grove
carriage made her uncomfortable at last, especially if the lady of the
mansion was in it. She never failed to lean forward and bow to them
with the greatest interest and politeness; and more than once Graeme was
left standing looking in at a shop-window, while Arthur obeyed the
beckoning hand of the lady, and went to speak to her. Sometimes the
pretty Fanny was there; sometimes she was not. But her absence did not
set Graeme's uncomfortable feelings at rest with regard to her brother.

And yet, why should she be uncomfortable? she asked herself, a thousand
times. What right had she to interfere, even in thought, with her
brother's friendship? If he admired Miss Grove, if even he were
attached to her, or engaged to her, it was nothing with which she could
interfere--nothing to which she could even allude--until he should speak
first. But then, of course, that was quite absurd! Miss Grove, though
very pretty, and the daughter of a man who was reported to be rich, was
no more worthy to be Arthur's wife--than--

Oh! of course it was all nonsense. No one had ever heard three words of
common sense from those pretty lips. She had heard Arthur say as much
as that himself. Miss Grove could dance and flirt and sing a little;
that was all that could be said for her, and to suppose that Arthur
would ever--

And yet Graeme grew a little indignant standing there looking at, but
scarcely seeing the beautiful things in Savage's window, and she
inwardly resolved that never again should she wait for the convenience
of the free-and-easy occupant of the carriage standing a few doors down
the street. She had time to go over the same thoughts a good many
times, and the conclusion always was that it was exceedingly impertinent
of Mrs Grove, and exceedingly foolish of Arthur, and exceedingly
disagreeable to herself, before she was recalled by her brother's voice
from her enforced contemplation of the beautiful things before her.

"Mrs Grove wanted to speak to you, Graeme," said he, with a little
embarrassme