“This is folly--dotage;” said Ellinor, indignantly: “Surely there are others, as brave, as gentle, as kind, and if not so wise, yet more fitted for the world.” “You mock me,” replied Madeline, incredulously; “whom could you select?” Ellinor blushed deeply--blushed from her snowy temples to her yet whiter bosom, as she answered, “If I said Walter Lester, could you deny it?” “Walter!” repeated Madeline, “the equal to Eugene Aram!” “Ay, and more than equal,” said Ellinor, with spirit, and a warm and angry tone. “And indeed, Madeline,” she continued, after a pause, “I lose something of that respect, which, passing a sister’s love, I have always borne towards you, when I see the unthinking and lavish idolatry you manifest to one, who, but for a silver tongue and florid words, would rather want attractions than be the wonder you esteem him. Fie, Madeline! I blush for you when you speak, it is unmaidenly so to love any one!” Madeline rose from the window, but the angry word died on her lips when she saw that Ellinor, who had worked her mind beyond her self-control, had thrown herself back on the pillow, and now sobbed aloud. The natural temper of the elder sister had always been much more calm and even than that of the younger, who united with her vivacity something of the passionate caprice and fitfulness of her sex. And Madeline’s affection for her had been tinged by that character of forbearance and soothing, which a superior nature often manifests to one more imperfect, and which in this instance did not desert her. She gently closed the window, and, gliding to the bed, threw her arms round her sister’s neck, and kissed away her tears with a caressing fondness, that, if Ellinor resisted for one moment, she returned with equal tenderness the next. “Indeed, dearest,” said Madeline, gently, “I cannot guess how I hurt you, and still less, how Eugene has offended you?” “He has offended me in nothing,” replied Ellinor, still weeping, “if he has not stolen away all your affection from me. But I was a foolish girl, forgive me, as you always do; and at this time I need your kindness, for I am very--very unhappy.” “Unhappy, dearest Nell, and why?” Ellinor wept on without answering. Madeline persisted in pressing for a reply; and at length her sister sobbed out: “I know that--that--Walter only has eyes for you, and a heart for you, who neglect, who despise his love; and I--I--but no matter, he is going to leave us, and of me--poor me, he will think no more!”