nt which, with the vulgar, might have passed for
indifference, her sufferings had so long been borne unnoticed that it
ceased to be an effort to disguise them. Though, as I have said, not
handsome, her countenance was interesting and pleasing; and there
was that caressing kindness, that winning charm about her smile, her
manners, her anxiety to please, to comfort, and to soothe which went at
once to the heart, and made her lovely,--because so loving.

Such was the sister whom Glyndon had so long neglected, and whom he
now so cordially welcomed. Adela had passed many years a victim to
the caprices, and a nurse to the maladies, of a selfish and exacting
relation. The delicate and generous and respectful affection of her
brother was no less new to her than delightful. He took pleasure in the
happiness he created; he gradually weaned himself from other society;
he felt the charm of home. It is not surprising, then, that this
young creature, free and virgin from every more ardent attachment,
concentrated all her grateful love on this cherished and protecting
relative. Her study by day, her dream by night, was to repay him for
his affection. She was proud of his talents, devoted to his welfare;
the smallest trifle that could interest him swelled in her eyes to the
gravest affairs of life. In short, all the long-hoarded enthusiasm,
which was her perilous and only heritage, she invested in this one
object of her holy tenderness, her pure ambition.

But in proportion as Glyndon shunned those excitements by which he had
so long sought to occupy his time or distract his thoughts, the gloom
of his calmer hours became deeper and more continuous. He ever and
especially dreaded to be alone; he could not bear his new companion to
be absent from his eyes: he rode with her, walked with her, and it was
with visible reluctance, which almost partook of horror, that he retired
to rest at an hour when even revel grows fatigued. This gloom was not
that which could be called by the soft name of melancholy,--it was far
more intense; it seemed rather like despair. Often after a silence as of
death--so heavy, abstracted, motionless, did it appear--he would start
abruptly, and cast hurried glances around him,--his limbs trembling, his
lips livid, his brows bathed in dew. Convinced that some secret sorrow
preyed upon his mind, and would consume his health, it was the dearest
as the most natural desire of Adela to become his confidant and
consoler.