ceeding propriety that she never had occasion to reprove me once. Yet I could not but perceive that she was at times unhappy and dissatisfied with herself—or her position, and truly I myself was not quite contented with the latter: this assumption of brotherly nonchalance was very hard to sustain, and I often felt myself a most confounded hypocrite with it all; I saw too, or rather I felt, that, in spite of herself, 'I was not indifferent to her,' as the novel heroes modestly express it, and while I thankfully enjoyed my present good fortune. I could not fail to wish and hope for something better in future; but of course, I kept such dreams entirely to myself.
"Where are you going Gilbert?" said Rose, one evening, shortly after tea, when I had been busy with the farm all day.
"To take a walk," was the reply.
"Do you always brush your hat so carefully, and do your hair so nicely, and put on such smart new gloves when you take a walk?"
