e was not aware, and it was well that she was not, that Hester was
jealous of her, almost from the hour of Margaret's learning what a vast
number of irregular verbs there is in the German. Each sister
remembered the conversation by the open window, on the night of their
arrival at Deerbrook. Remembering it, Margaret made Hester a partaker
in all her feelings about Maria Young; her admiration, her pity, her
esteem. Reserving to herself any confidence which Maria placed in her
(in which, however, no mention of Mr Enderby ever occurred), she kept
not a thought or feeling of her own from her sister. The consequence
was, that Hester found that Maria filled a large space in Margaret's
mind, and that a new interest had risen up in which she had little
share. She, too, remembered the conversation, but had not strength to
act up to the spirit of it. She had then owned her weakness, and called
it wickedness, and fancied that she could never mistrust her sister
again. She was now so ashamed of her own consciousness of being once
more jealous, that she strove to hide the fact from herself; and was not
therefore likely to tell it to Margaret. She struggled hourly with
herself, rebuking her own temper, and making appeals to her own
generosity. She sat drawing in the little blue parlour, morning after
morning, during Sophia's reading or practising, telling herself that
Margaret and Miss Young had no secrets, no desire to be always
_tete-a-tete_; that they had properly invited her to learn German; and
that she had only to go at any moment, and offer to join them, to be
joyfully received. She argued with herself,--how mean it would be to do
so; to agree to study at last, in order to be a sort of spy upon them,
to watch over her own interests; as if Margaret--the most sincere and
faithful of living beings--were not to be trusted with them. She had
often vowed that she would cure the jealousy of her temper; now was the
occasion, and she would meet it; she would steadily sit beside Sophia or
Mrs Grey every morning, when Margaret was not with her, and never let
her sister know how selfish she could be.

This was all very well; but it could not make Margaret suppose her
sister happy when she was not. She could not be certain what was the
matter, but she saw that something was wrong. At times, Hester's manner
was so unboundedly affectionate, that it was impossible to suppose that
unkind feelings existed towards herself; though a f