I should be proud of such a sister, even did she wear the
shackles. But you! No, no, there is no stain upon your birth!"
"And can you regard me as you once did? A--"
"An angel. Yes, truly, as an angel of the higher order."
"Nay, nay, this sounds not like the Henry Carroll of a month since. You
are a flatterer," said Emily, with a smile.
"I did but say what I would have gladly said then," replied Henry.
The fear of ingratitude to a father no longer chained his heart to the
narrow limit of friendship. He saw her before him trodden down by
misfortune, in the power of subtlety and villany, and as a child of
misfortune his heart even more strongly inclined to her. He loved her
more tenderly than before.
"Then, when sorrow was a stranger, you were subdued and distant to your
sister," said Emily, her heart fluttering with the storm of emotion
within it.
"I am as I was then; but you were a child of affluence, and I feared
to--to--"
"Why did you fear?" asked Emily, not waiting to hear the word Henry was
stammering to enunciate.
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