Arthur listened sorrowfully and compassionately to his sister's melancholy relation of the blight, which had fallen on the unalloyed happiness of which he had found her in such full enjoyment on his return to England. He remembered her bright and happy countenance then--and the change it now exhibited, so touched and saddened the young man's feelings at the time, that he only held Mary's hand, and sympathized, soothed, and cheered with words of encouragement--neither expressing blame, anger, or suspicion, against the originating source of all this woe.
But at length when Mary said: "And now, dear Arthur, I want you to assist me, I think something should be done--something ascertained--anything will be better than this miserable state of uncertainty and suspense," he looked up quickly with a sudden, impatient flash from his bright blue eye, and answered:
"Yes indeed, Mary. I think so too, something must, and shall be done."
"But listen to me dear Arthur," she continued mildly. "What I should wish to ascertain would be, whether, under the present circumstances of affairs--whatever they may be--Eugene's engagement to me, involves him in any unforseen trouble or annoyance; for," she added very sadly, "if I thought that were the case--"
"Would you give him up?" her brother quickly rejoined, with something of pleasurable hope lighting up his countenance, as he seized upon the idea suggested.
"Give him up! Oh, cruel words and easily spoken!" Mary averted her head, but with a deep drawn sigh, and forced calmness, continued: "I could never give Eugene up, unless," and again a sorrowful sigh, as she thought upon similar words spoken in a formerly recorded conversation, "unless Eugene himself desired it; or, that I discovered it was necessary or expedient, to his comfort or prosperity that I should do so. If it were really so; or, should it be more for his ease that some definite period, one of any length, or duration, should be agreed upon, for the postponement of our marriage, he need not fancy I should impatiently shrink from such an engagement. And it is this, that I should like to be conveyed to Eugene. I would write--but writing is so very painful, and unsatisfactory, under such circumstances; I can quite enter into poor Eugene's feelings on that point. I would ask you, dear Arthur, to go and speak to him--if," and she looked anxiously into her brother's face, "if I could be _quite certain_, if I could quite trust you in the matter--if I could be perfectly sure that you would not allow your jealous affection for myself, to outrun your kindness and consideration towards Eugene. Arthur, if you went to him could you promise. Oh, I am sure you will not take from me the stay, and comfort, I can in this emergency feel alone in you--you will promise that no harsh, reproachful, or uncourteous word shall escape your lips, on the subject of my concerns."