Such thoughts, however, kept her mute, with her eyes gazing on the tapestry at the other side of the room; and she saw not that Ella, surprised at her silence, had now raised her look, and was reading in the countenance--with the skill which peril and misfortune soon acquire in this hard world--all that was passing in the heart beneath. The poor girl's face was very pale, for she had her emotions too; but yet she was calmer than Mary Markham, for one of the chief sources of agitation was wanting in her bosom. She was without hope. She might love, but it was love with no expectation. The future, which to Mary's eyes was like the garden of the Hesperides, all hanging with golden fruit, was a desert to poor Ella Brune. She had no fear, because she had no hope. She had no doubts, because she had no trust. She was externally calm, for though there were painful sensations, there was no internal contention. She, therefore, it was who spoke first. "You know him, lady," she said, in a sweet, gentle, humble tone; "and if you know him, you love him." "I do know him," answered Mary Markham, with a trembling voice and glowing cheek--"I have known him well for years." She paused there; but the moment after, she thought, with that generous confidence so often misplaced, but which was not so in this instance, "It were better to tell her all, for her sake and for mine. If she be good and virtuous, as I think, it cannot but lead to good to let her know the whole truth." "Ay, Ella," she continued aloud, "and you are right. I do love him, and he loves me. We have plighted our faith to each other, and wait but the consent of others to be more happy than we are." A tear trembled in the eye of Ella Brune; but what were the thoughts that flashed like lightning through her mind? "The lady loves him, and she sees I love him too. Jealousy is a strange thing, and a sad pang!--She may doubt him, even with such a friendless being as I am--I will sweep that doubt away;" and with a resigned, but gentle smile, looking in Mary's face, she said--"I was sure of it." "Of what, Ella?" asked Mary Markham, with some surprise. "That he loved some one, and was beloved again," replied the poor girl; and she repeated "I was sure of it." "What could make you sure?" asked the lady, gazing at her with a less embarrassed look. "He did not tell you, did he?" "Oh, no," answered Ella Brune. "All he told me was, that he was going afar to Burgundy, and that as he could not give me any further protection himself, he would send one of his men to inquire after me, that he might hear I was safe, and as happy as fate would let me be, but--" and she paused, as if she doubted whether to proceed or not. "But what, Ella?" demanded Mary.