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Show 22 RTCIL\ RD flURDIS. all, th<tt llcrs was not less d<'pendcnt upon mine; and when tho increasing intimacy of the maiden with my brother, and his confident demeanor toward herself aud parents, led us all to rC'gard him as the possessor of those afl'cctions which everybody ktd supposed to be mine, the matter was no less surprising to all than it ·was, for a season, bitter and overwhelming to me. I could h::wc throttled my more fortunate brother - brother though he wns-in tl1C first moment of my rage at this discovery; and all my love for Mary did not save her from sundry unmanly denunciations which I will not now vcntmc to rc pc~1t. I did not utter these denunciations in her cars though I uttered them nloud. rrhcy reached her cars, however, and the medium of communication was John Hunlis. This last baseness aroused me to open rngo ag~tinst ]tim. I told him to his teeth he wns a RcOmHlrcl; :md he bore with the imputation, and spoke of our blood connection as the 1·eason for his forbearance to resent an indignity which, agreeably to our modes of thinking, could only be atoned for by blood. "Drother, indeed!" I exclaimed furiously in r C}>ly. "No, .John llurdis, you arc no brother of mine, though our father and motl1Cr be the s:tmc. I ncknowledge no r el:ttionship be· tween us. ' ·Vc arc of a different family-of far-removed and foreign natures. My kindred shall never Lc found among tl1e base; and from this moment I renounce all kindred with you. llenccforth, we know nothing of each otlter only so far as it may be necessary to keep from giving pain ::md offence to our parents. nut we shall not be long under that restraint. I will shortly leave you to yourself, to your couquests, und the undisturbed enjoyment of that happiness which y ou lmve toiled for so basely at the expense of mine." He would have explained and eXJ10stu1atecl, but I refused to l1ear him. lie proffered me l1is hand, but with a v iolent Llow of my own, I struck it down, and turned my sltouldcr upon ltim. It was thus, in such relationship, that we stood, when I announced to my mother my intention to leave the fam ily. tV c barely spoke to one another wl1en speech ·wns absolutely unavoidable, nnd it was soon known to Mary Easterby, not less than to the persons of my own 1Jouscholcl, that our hearts were lifted in enmity against eacli other. She seized an early opportunity mid spoke MARY EASTERDY, 23 to me on tl1e subject. Either she mistook the nature of our quarrel, or the chnracter of' my a ffections. Yet how she could h:wc mistaken the l:tttcJ·, or misunderstood the former, I can not imngine. Y ct sl1c did so. "Richard, they say y ou have qual'l'c!Jed with your brother." "Does he say it-does .Jolm H unlis say it, Mary1" was my reply. S he pnused nnd hcsit:ttcd. I pressed tl1e question with more earnestness ns I bclJcld her l1esitntion. She strove to speak with calmness, hut was not altogether successful. H er voice trembled as she rep I iccl :- " lie docs not, Richard-not in words; but I haYc infetTod it from what he docs sny, and from tl1e fact that he has said so little. H e seemed unwilling to tell me anyth in~." "He is wise," I replied bitterly ; " l1e is very wise; but it is Jato. Better l10 bad been thus taciturn always !" " \\'hy speak you so, Richard 1" she continued i "why arc yon tLus violent ngninst your brother ~ "\Vhat has llc clone to vex you to this pnss 1 Let me l1car your compla int." "Com1)laint ! I have none. You mistake me, Mary-! complain not. I complain of nobody. If I can not right my own wrongs, at least, I will not complain of them." "Oh, be not so proud, R ichard ! be not so proud!" she replied earnestly; nnd her long white fingers rested upon my wrist for an instaut, and were as instantly witlJdrawn. ]Jut that one toucl1 ·was enough to thrill to tl1e bone. It was my turn to t remble. She continued - " 'l'hcre is no wisdom in tl1is pride of yours, Uicbrtrcl; it is unbecoming in such frail beings as we are, and it will be fat.1l to y our happiness." "lbppiness !-my happiness ! Ah, niary, if it be my pride only wllich is to be f:ttal to my happiness, tl1en I am secure. nut I fear not that. Uy pride is my hope now, my strength. It J>rotccts me- it shiC'Ids my l1eart from my own weakness." She looked in my face with glances of t he most earnest inquiry for a little while, and then spoke as follows:- "Richard, there is something now-a-d~tys about you which I do ~lOt .exactly understand. You utter yourself in a. language wluch IS strange to me, and your manners have become strange t 'Vhy is this- what is the matter 1" |
