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 when they caused her to smile. But the last deduction was that her husband, who had the greatest admiration for his brother, and who humbled himself before him, was insincere. Kitty knew that this insincerity of his was caused by his love for him, from a sort of conscientious scruple at being too happy, and especially from a never ceasing desire to be better—and she loved this in him, and that was why she smiled,

"But why should you be dissatisfied?" she asked, with the same smile.

Her disbelief in his self-dissatisfaction pleased him, and he unconsciously provoked her to explain the reasons for her disbelief.

"I am happy, but I am dissatisfied with myself ...." said he.

"How can you be dissatisfied, if you are happy?"

"How can I express it? .... In my heart of hearts I wish nothing else except that you should not stumble. Oh! you must not jump so," he exclaimed, interrupting his argument with a reproach, because she had made a too vivacious motion in jumping over a branch which lay in the path.

"But when I criticize myself and compare myself with others, especially with my brother, I am conscious of all my inferiority."

"But why?" persisted Kitty, with the same smile. "Aren't you always doing for others? And your farming, your book?" ....

"Yes, I feel this especially now; and you are to blame," said he, pressing her hand. "I do this so, so superficially. Ah, if I could love all this work as I love you! .... But of late I work on it as if it were a task imposed on me."

"But what do you say about papa?" asked Kitty. "Is he unworthy because he does nothing for the commonwealth?"

"He? .... oh, no! But one must have just such simplicity, transparency, goodness, as he has; but I haven't, have I? If I do not work, I am tormented. 'T is you who have made it so. If it were not for you, and if it were