In vain did he endeavor to elicit one word from his haughty companion. To see the man in whose society men so delighted, whose converse was the purest and most gentle, and, at the same time, so wise and elegant, set at naught, by one whose pride alone gave her any pretension to dignity, was something so revolting to her nature, and so foreign to her ideas of respect, that she could not fail to feel for Latimer at every attempt he made to address the haughty Alice. The proud Alice would condescend to speak to the Lord De Freston, but a supercilious stare was the sole result of every attempt on the part of Latimer to draw a word from her. 'He is the friend of my father,' thought Ellen. 'Surely, he cannot be aware of the indignity she puts upon that friend by her behaviour. He would never encourage such hauteur by engaging in conversation with her, if he could see the gentle and manly Latimer treated as he in by Alice. But he sees it not.' It was evidently observed by Daundy, who was seated near to Ellen. 'Do you see, my fair Ellen, how that haughty maid flaunts at the young scholar's address to her? Latimer must feel himself very uncomfortable. I rejoice that I am not near her; I might be apt to forget even the courtesy of the Bishop, and tell her she had better keep to her own closet than pretend to come into society, and not know how to behave in it.' 'I perceive it,' replied Ellen, 'and I am almost indignant enough to wish that you had the opportunity of giving a deserved rebuke to the spirit of pride which, delights in paining the humble. I am sure Latimer feels deeply wounded by such treatment.' If the conduct of Alice wounded the gentle and generous Latimer, he was more than repaid by the sign of interest which Ellen evinced for him. It was then, for the first moment of his life, that the thought of love came down upon his soul, and dispelled the gloom of sorrow which had brooded over his mind at the pride of the fair one near him. It was a similar thought that aroused in Ellen the blush of consciousness, as she felt the first throb of the warm blood rush from her heart, in sympathy with the architect of Freston Tower. It was perhaps well, just at this moment, that Latimer and Ellen were called upon to listen to the language of orators upon the most vital and important subject which could come under human contemplation. John Bale, who had waited patiently till grace had been chaunted, and was expected to speak publicly before the Bishop upon matters touching some scruples he entertained, rose. Silence being enjoined, he addressed the Bishop in these words: