I can provide for myself, and may God bless you!" "You take it coolly, madam," said her brother, walking through the apartment with much anxiety both of look and gesture.
"I do," she answered, "for it is what I have often foreseen--Yes, brother, I have often foreseen that you would make your sister the subject of your plots and schemes, so soon as other stakes failed you.
That hour is come, and I am, as you see, prepared to meet it." "And where may you propose to retire to ?" said Mowbray.

"I think that I, your only relation and natural guardian, have a right to know that--my honour and that of my family is concerned." "Your honour!" she retorted, with a keen glance at him; "your interest, I suppose you mean, is somehow connected with the place of my abode .-- But keep yourself patient--the den of the rock, the linn of the brook, should be my choice, rather than a palace without my freedom." "You are mistaken, however," said Mowbray, sternly, "if you hope to enjoy more freedom than I think you capable of making a good use of.

The law authorizes, and reason, and even affection, require, that you should be put under restraint for your own safety, and that of your character.
You roamed the woods a little too much in my father's time, if all stories be true." "I did--I did indeed, Mowbray," said Clara, weeping; "God pity me, and forgive you for upbraiding me with my state of mind--I know I cannot sometimes trust my own judgment; but is it for you to remind me of this ?" Mowbray was at once softened and embarrassed.
"What folly is this ?" he said; "you say the most cutting things to me--are ready to fly from my house--and when I am provoked to make an angry answer, you burst into tears!" "Say you did not mean what you said, my dearest brother!" exclaimed Clara; "O say you did not mean it!--Do not take my liberty from me--it is all I have left, and, God knows, it is a poor comfort in the sorrows I undergo.

I will put a fair face on every thing--will go down to the Well--will wear what you please, and say what you please--but O! leave me the liberty of my solitude here--let me weep alone in the house of my father--and do not force a broken-hearted sister to lay her death at your door .-- My span must be a brief one, but let not your hand shake the sand-glass!--Disturb me not--let me pass quietly--I do not ask this so much for my sake as for your own.

I would have you think of me, sometimes, Mowbray, after I am gone, and without the bitter reflections which the recollection of harsh usage will assuredly bring with it.