But her letter to her brother was much more difficult. What should she tell him, and what should she not tell him? She began by describing her grandfather's state, and by saying to him, as she had done to Mrs. Greenow, that she believed the old man's hours were well-nigh come to a close. She told him that she had asked her aunt to come to her; "not," she said, "that I think her coming will be of material service, but I feel the loneliness of the house will be too much for me at such a time. I must leave it for you to decide," she said, "whether you had better be here. If anything should happen,"--people when writing such letters are always afraid to speak of death by its proper name,--"I will send you a message, and no doubt you would come at once." Then came the question of the will. Had it not occurred to her that her own interests were involved she would have said nothing on the subject; but she feared her brother,--feared even his misconstruction of her motives, even though she was willing to sacrifice so much on his behalf,--and therefore she resolved to tell him all that she knew. He might turn upon her hereafter if she did not do so, and accuse her of a silence which had been prejudicial to him.

But her letter to her brother was much more difficult. What should she tell him, and what should she not? She began by describing her grandfather's state. She told him that she had asked her aunt to come to her; "because," she said, "I feel the loneliness of the house will be too much for me at such a time. I must leave it for you to decide whether you had better be here. If anything should happen, I will send you a message, and no doubt you would come at once."
Then came the question of the will. If she was silent, she feared her brother might misconstrue her motives, even though she was willing to sacrifice so much on his behalf; and therefore she resolved to tell him all that she knew.
