"There certainly never was such beautiful hair!" said Ellinor admiringly; "and, let me see,--yes,--on Thursday fortnight I may be dressing it, perhaps, for the last time--heigho!" "Don't flatter yourself that you are so near the end of your troublesome duties," said Madeline, with her pretty smile, which had been much brighter and more frequent of late than it was formerly wont to be, so that Lester had remarked "That Madeline really appeared to have become the lighter and gayer of the two." "You will often come to stay with us for weeks together, at least till-- till you have a double right to be mistress here. Ah! my poor hair,--you need not pull it so hard." "Be quiet, then," said Ellinor, half laughing, and wholly blushing. "Trust me, I have not been in love myself without learning its signs; and I venture to prophesy that within six months you will come to consult me whether or not,--for there is a great deal to be said on both sides of the question,--you can make up your mind to sacrifice your own wishes, and marry Walter Lester. Ah!--gently, gently. Nell--" "Promise to be quiet." "I will--I will; but you began it." As Ellinor now finished her task, and kissed her sister's forehead, she sighed deeply. "Happy Walter!" said Madeline. "I was not sighing for Walter, but for you." "For me?--impossible! I cannot imagine any part of my future life that can cost you a sigh. Ah! that I were more worthy of my happiness." "Well, then," said Ellinor, "I sighed for myself;--I sighed to think we should so soon be parted, and that the continuance of your society would then depend not on our mutual love, but the will of another." "What, Ellinor, and can you suppose that Eugene,--my Eugene,--would not welcome you as warmly as myself? Ah! you misjudge him; I know you have not yet perceived how tender a heart lies beneath all that melancholy and reserve." "I feel, indeed," said Ellinor warmly, "as if it were impossible that one whom you love should not be all that is good and noble; yet if this reserve of his should increase, as is at least possible, with increasing years; if our society should become again, as it once was, distasteful to him, should I not lose you, Madeline?" "But his reserve cannot increase: do you not perceive how much it is softened already? Ah! be assured that I will charm it away." "But what is the cause of the melancholy that even now, at times, evidently preys upon him?--has he never revealed it to you?" "It is merely the early and long habit of solitude and study, Ellinor," replied Madeline; "and shall I own to you I would scarcely wish that away; his tenderness itself seems linked with his melancholy. It is like a sad but gentle music, that brings tears into our eyes, but which we would not change for gayer airs for the world."