"Janet, you grieve me. Surely you are not pleading with me in behalf of Salome?" Tears trickled over Miss Jane's sallow cheeks and dripped on the doctor's hand, as she replied,-- "Bear with me, Ulpian. The girl is very dear to me; and, loving you as she unquestionably does, I know that you could make her a noble, admirable woman,--for she has some fine traits, and your influence would perfect her character. Believe me, my dear boy, you, and you only, can remould her heart." "Possibly,--if I loved her; for then I would be patient and forbearing towards her faults. But I cannot even respect that handsome, fiery, impulsive, unreasonable child, much less love her; and, if I ever marry, my wife must be worthy to remould my own defective life and erring nature. I am surprised, my dear sister, that you, whose sincere affection I can not doubt, should be willing to see me link my life with that of one so much younger, and, I grieve to say it, so far inferior in all respects. What congenial companionship could I promise myself? What confidence could I repose--what esteem could I entertain--for a silly girl, who, without warrant and utterly unsought, bestows her love (if, indeed, what you say be true) upon a man who never even dreamed of such folly, and is old enough to be her father?" "I can not comprehend the logic that condemns Salome, and justifies your own mother; for, if there be any difference in their lines of conduct, I am too stupid to see it." Miss Jane lifted her head from her brother's shoulder, resolutely dried her eyes, and settled her cap.