am feeble in spirit, and dare not trust myself to be your confidante. I cannot depend upon myself." A tear glistened as she spoke, but dashing it instantly away so that it was not seen, "I wish you happiness, and may what

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is dear to you constitute and share your bliss!"

A ray of light seemed to rest on Ellen's now calm and pensive countenance as she steadily pronounced this sentence; then dropping Lady Villetta's hand, she arose and took refuge in the open air from the conservatory door. Lady Villetta was too disconcerted to notice Ellen's immediate departure. She was inly condemning her own indiscreet disclosure, and her pride was suffering from the refusal of friendship by a girl so young, but so decided. "She considers me unworthy of her regard, and views me as an uncongenial companion. She may pity me; but she will not allow me to seek her as I anticipated."

Thus was Villetta musing in a triste attitude, when Lord Darmaya brought the guitar, and requested her to sing. Willingly she took it to get rid of his fâde conversation. Ellen entered at an opposite door with Lord Vahl.

She directly came across to Lady Villetta, and putting her arm around her to place a rose, which she had gathered, in her belt ribbon, she softly said, "Do not be afraid! We are friends; accept the kiss of peace." And her lips just touched the forehead which was bending over the guitar.

"And are you determined to leave us, then, dear Ellen ?" Matilda inquired, as she watched her replacing some books which were brought into the library from the boudoir.

"Yes; mamma is to call for me at two o'clock," Ellen replied, in an apparently composed voice, as she continued to place the volumes carefully in their former vacancies. But as she could not see clearly, though there was plenty of light, they were strangely intermixed. Lorevaine was at the writing-table. He had merely asked Ellen how she was, placed her on a chair, and then recommenced writing.

"And do you leave us to-day," Miss De Lastre?" was uttered with a flash of surprise; and casting away the pen, he put his back against the door, so as she should not pass.

"I thought you were all aware that my visit

to grandpapa was to begin on the 15th. Did he not tell you so ?"

"True; but I imagined you would easily have induced him to spare you to us a few weeks more. I was not prepared to lose you

thus."

"You never said so," Ellen breathed in a low and gentle tone;" and there may be some inconvenience in your having visiters now."

She was proceeding, when the recollection of her promise to Lady Villetta checked the rising sentence. "But I shall hear of you now and then," she added tremulously: "you will sometimes think of Ellen ?"

"Think of you!" Lorevaine exclaimed, as he attempted to smother the struggling sigh. "Can you doubt me?" Then throwing back the deep blond veil which concealed her face, and drawing her towards him affectionately, he added, "Look at me, Ellen! am I not your's in heart and soul as ever? Would I not die to serve you? Yes, under every change and circumstance; and if ever you want a friend, then remember Lorevaine."

Matilda was petrified! She had noticed the

extreme agitation and grief on her father's countenance. Ellen was now weeping desperately, with her head resting in the cushions of the sofa; for Lorevaine had vanished the moment he had ceased to speak, as if he would not stay to brook Ellen's answer. Matilda's feelings were incomprehensible. She could not understand the nature of such sorrow. She adored her father; she saw him excited, and she gazed with a chilling anger at Ellen.

Alone, unheeded, in the bitterest suffering, Ellen lay. Matilda approached still nearer; but her father's agony rushed on her mind. "Ellen must be to blame," she thought. She passed forward, and, without one adieu, ran into her school-room, where, fastening the door, she cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER VI.

The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distempered blood,
Than to make up a free determination

"Twixt right and wrong; for pleasure aud revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

Of any true decision.

SHAKSPEARE.

THE conversation in the recess of the window, which Mr. Montague had alluded to as having taken place with Lord Darmaya one evening, had been of deep interest to himself. He had been asked point blank by the Earl, sans façon, whether he was not engaged to marry Miss De Lastre, as, from what Mrs. Montague had imparted to him, and from all that came within the scope of his observation, he concluded it was certainly the fact. Montague was too much embarrassed, though delighted at the possibility of such happiness, to make any im