Then both became silent and thoughtful. They felt that something threatened to disturb what seemed to be the only possible life for them, yet were unable to distinguish its features, and therefore powerless to resist it. The same instinct which had been born of their wonderful spiritual likeness told them that Ruth Bradley already loved Jonathan: the duty was established, and they must conform their lives to it. There was, however, this slight difference between their natures--that David was generally the first to utter the thought which came to the minds of both. So when he said, “We shall learn what to do when the need comes,” it was a postponement of all foreboding. They drifted contentedly towards the coming change. The days went by, and their visits to Ruth Bradley were continued. Sometimes Jonathan went alone, but they were usually together, and the tie which united the three became dearer and sweeter as it was more closely drawn. Ruth learned to distinguish between the two when they were before her: at least she said so, and they were willing to believe it. But she was hardly aware how nearly alike was the happy warmth in her bosom produced by either pair of dark gray eyes and the soft half-smile which played around either mouth. To them she seemed to be drawn within the mystic circle which separated them from others--she, alone; and they no longer imagined a life in which she should not share. Then the inevitable step was taken. Jonathan declared his love, and was answered. Alas! he almost forgot David that late summer evening, as they sat in the moonlight, and over and over again assured each other how dear they had grown. He felt the trouble in David's heart when they met. “Ruth is ours, and I bring her kiss to you,” he said, pressing his lips to David's; but the arms flung around him trembled, and David whispered, “Now the change begins.” “Oh, this cannot be our burden!” Jonathan cried, with all the rapture still warm in his heart. “If it is, it will be light, or heavy, or none at all, as we shall bear it,” David answered, with a smile of infinite tenderness. For several days he allowed Jonathan to visit the Bradley farm alone, saying that it must be so on Ruth's account. Her love, he declared, must give her the fine instinct which only their mother had ever possessed, and he must allow it time to be confirmed. Jonathan, however, insisted that Ruth already possessed it; that she was beginning to wonder at his absence, and to fear that she would not be entirely welcome to the home which must always be equally his. David yielded at once. “You must go alone,” said Jonathan, “to satisfy yourself that she knows us at last.” Ruth came forth from the house as he drew near. Her face beamed; she laid her hands upon his shoulders and kissed him. “Now you cannot doubt me, Ruth!” he said, gently. “Doubt you, Jonathan!” she exclaimed with a fond reproach in her eyes. “But you look troubled; is any thing the matter?”