, good, bad,
or indifferent, we do from habit. Habit is all I shall have to report, when I am
called upon to plead to my conscience, on my death-bed. Habit, says I; I was
deaf, dumb, blind, and paralytic, to a million things, from habit. Very
business-like indeed, Mr. What's-your-name, says Conscience, but it won't do
here!«
    The gentleman got up and walked to the window again and back: seriously
uneasy, though giving his uneasiness this peculiar expression.
    »Miss Harriet,« he said, resuming his chair, »I wish you would let me serve
you. Look at me; I ought to look honest, for I know I am so, at present. Do I?«
    »Yes,« she answered with a smile.
    »I believe every word you have said,« he returned. »I am full of
self-reproach that I might have known this and seen this, and known you and seen
you, any time these dozen years, and that I never have. I hardly know how I ever
got here - creature that I am, not only of my own habit, but of other people's!
But having done so, let me do something. I ask it in all honour and respect. You
inspire me with both, in the highest degree. Let me do something.«
    »We are contented, Sir.«
    »No, no, not quite,« returned the gentleman. »I think not quite. There are
some little comforts that might smooth your life, and his. And his!« he
repeated, fancying that had made some impression on her. »I have been in the
habit of thinking that there was nothing wanting to be done for him; that it was
all settled and over; in short, of not thinking at all about it. I am different
now. Let me do something for him. You too,« said the visitor, with careful
delicacy, »have need to watch your health closely, for his sake, and I fear it
fails.«
    »Whoever you may be, Sir,« answered Harriet, raising her eyes to his face,
»I am deeply grateful to you. I feel certain that in all you say, you have no
object in the world but kindness to us. But years have passed since we began
this life; and to take from my brother any part of what has so endeared him to
me,
