with so piteous and desolate a look, that she began to fear her reason
was affected.

"Have I lost your confidence? Am I no longer loved?" said the Lady
Ellinor. "Can you sit heart-broken there, and will not allow me to
comfort you? Still no answer! Shall I go? Shall I leave you, my love?
Do you wish me absent?" continued she in a trembling voice, the tears
flowing over her face, as she rose up. Her motion to depart aroused
the Lady Anne. "Ellinor! my Ellinor!" she cried, and throwing herself
forward, she stretched forth her arms. In another moment she was
weeping on the bosom of her friend. She wept for a long time without
restraint, for the Lady Ellinor said nothing, but drew her nearer and
nearer to her bosom, and tenderly pressed the hand that was clasped in
hers.

"I ought not to be weeping here," at length she said, "I ought to let
you leave me, but I have not the courage, I cannot bear to lose your
friendship,--your affection, my Ellinor! Can you love me? Have you
loved me, knowing all the while, as every one must? To-day--this very
hour, since you left me, I learned:--no I cannot tell you! Look on
that page, Ellinor, you will see why you find me thus. I am the most
wretched, wretched creature!"--here again she burst into an agony of
uncontrollable grief.

* * * * *

Who can describe the feelings of the Lady Anne--alone, in her chamber,
looking up at the portrait of her mother, upon which she had so often
gazed with delight and reverence! "Is it possible?" said she to
herself, "can this be she, of whom I have read such dreadful things?