hear.

'I cannot--cannot part with it! When I sit here, I can almost feel him
leaning over me! You must go--I will pay your expenses myself! I
wonder if we should have such rough roads as would hurt you,' she
added, caressingly toying with the notes, and bringing soft replies
from them, as if she were conversing with a living thing.

'Ah!' said Tom, coming nearer, 'you will, I hope, take care to what
your brother's impetuosity might expose either this, or yourself.'

'We shall all fare alike,' she said, carelessly.

'But how?' said Tom.

'Henry will take care of that.'

'Do you know, Miss Ward, I came down here with the purpose of setting
some matters before your brother that might dissuade him from making
the United States his home. You have justly more influence than I.
Will you object to hear them from me?'

Ave could not imagine why Tom May, of all people in the world, should
thrust himself into the discussion of her plans; but she could only
submit to listen, or more truly to lean back with wandering thoughts
and mechanical signs of assent, as he urged his numerous objections.
Finally, she uttered a meek 'Thank you,' in the trust that it was over.

'And will you try to make your brother consider these things?'

Poor Ave could not have stood an examination on 'these things,' and
feeling inadequate to undertake the subject, merely said something of
'very kind, but she feared it would be of no use.'

'I assure you, if you would persuade him to talk it over with me, that
I could show him that he would involve you all in what would be most
distasteful.'

'Thank you, but his mind is made up. No other course is open.'

'Could he not, at least, go and see what he thinks of it, before taking
you and your sisters?'

'Impossible!' said Averil. 'We must all keep together; we have no one
else.'

'No, indeed, you must not say that,' cried Tom, with a fire that
startled Averil in the midst of her languid, dreary indifference.

'I did not mean,' she said, 'to be ungrateful for the kindness of your
family--the Doctor and dear Mary, above all; but you must know-'

'I know,' he interrupted, 'that I cannot see you exiling yourself with
your brother, because you think you have no one else to turn to--you,
who are so infinitely dear--'

'This is no time for satire,' she said, drawing aside with offence, but
still wearily, and as if she had not given attention enough to
understand him.

'You mistake me,' he e