'Truly, Miss Mortimer,' said my father at last, 'I must say I think it a little strange that you should leave us so suddenly, before we have had time to provide a person to be with Ellen.' This speech, or the manner in which it was spoken, roused Miss Mortimer; for she answered with a degree of spirit which broke upon the meekness of her usual manner like summer lightning on the twilight. 'While I had a hope of being useful to Miss Percy,' said she, 'I was willing to doubt of the necessity for leaving her; but every such hope must end since it is judged advisable to use concealment with me. Besides, I am now fully aware of my situation. Dr ---- has told me that any delay will be fatal to all chance of success.' 'Well,' said my father, 'every one is the best judge of his own affairs; but my opinion is that you had better have staid where you are. You might have had my family surgeon to attend you when you chose, without expense. I take it your accommodations would have been somewhat different from what you can have in that confined hovel of yours.' Miss Mortimer shook her head. 'I cannot doubt your liberality, sir,' said she; 'but the very name of home compensates many a want; and I find it is doubly dear to the sick and the dying.' Miss Mortimer's last words, and the sound of her carriage as it drove to the door, brought our comfortless meal to a close; and, in a mood between sorrow and anger, I retreated to a window, where I stood gazing as steadfastly into the street, as if I had really observed what was passing there. I did not venture to look round while I listened to Miss Mortimer's last farewell to my father; and I averted my face still more when she drew near and took the hand which hung listless by my side. 'Ellen,' said her sweet plaintive voice, 'shall we not part friends?' I would have given the universe at that moment for the obduracy to utter a careless answer; but it was impossible:--so I stretched my neck as if to watch somewhat at the farther end of the street, though in truth my eyes were dim with tears more bitter than those of sorrow. Miss Mortimer for a while stood by me silent, and when she spoke, her voice was broken with emotion. 'Perhaps we may meet again,' whispered she, 'if I live, perhaps. I know it is in vain to tell you now that you are leaning on a broken reed; but if it should pierce you--if worldly pleasures fail you--if you should ever long for the sympathy of a faithful heart, will you think of me, Ellen? Will you remember your natural, unalienable right over her whom your mother loved and trusted?' I answered not. Indeed I could not answer. My father and Miss Arnold were present; and, in the cowardice of pride, I could not dare the humiliation of exposing to them the better feeling which swelled my heart to bursting,--I snatched my hand from the grasp of my friend,--my only real friend,--darted from her presence, and shut myself up alone.