young children. But all these particulars Will
only remembered and understood when he had left the house; at the time he
heard them, he was thinking of Susan. After he had made good his footing
at Mr. Palmer's, he was not long, you may be sure, without finding some
reason for returning again and again. He listened to her father, he
talked to the little niece, but he looked at Susan, both while he
listened and while he talked. Her father kept on insisting upon his
former gentility, the details of which would have appeared very
questionable to Will's mind, if the sweet, delicate, modest Susan had not
thrown an inexplicable air of refinement over all she came near. She
never spoke much; she was generally diligently at work; but when she
moved it was so noiselessly, and when she did speak, it was in so low and
soft a voice, that silence, speech, motion, and stillness alike seemed to
remove her high above Will's reach into some saintly and inaccessible air
of glory--high above his reach, even as she knew him! And, if she were
made acquainted with the dark secret behind of his sister's shame, which
was kept ever present to his mind by his mother's nightly search among
the outcast and forsaken, would not Susan shrink away from him with
loathing, as if he were tainted by the involuntary relationship? This
was his dread; and thereupon followed a resolution that he would withdraw
from her sweet company before it was too late. So he resisted internal
temptation, and stayed at home, and suffered and sighed. He became angry
with his mother for her untiring patience in seeking for one who he could
not help hoping was dead rather than alive. He spoke sharply to her, and
received only such sad deprecatory answers as made him reproach himself,
and still more lose sight of peace of mind. This struggle could not last
long without affecting his health; and Tom, his sole companion through
the long evenings, noticed his increasing languor, his restless
irritability, with perplexed anxiety, and at last resolved to call his
mother's attention to his brother's haggard, careworn looks. She
listened with a startled recollection of Will's claims upon her love. She
noticed his decreasing appetite and half-checked sighs.

"Will, lad! what's come o'er thee?" said she to him, as he sat listlessly
gazing into the fire.

"There's nought the matter with me," said he, as if annoyed at her
remark.

"Nay, lad, but there is." He did not speak