Elinor had entered the castle with a look of bold defiance; yet her lips trembled, as she twice vainly attempted to address Lady Avondale, who moved forward to enquire the cause of her visit. “I am come,” said Miss St. Clare with haughty insolence, “to ask a favour of you—tell me shall it be granted? my uncle is ill: he has sent to see me. This may be a mere feint to draw me into his power. I will trust myself with no one but you:—if you will engage for me, that I shall not be detained, I will go to him; if not, come what will, I will never more set foot into his house.” “Your having listened to the prayers of Sir Everard,” answered Lady Avondale eagerly, “is a proof to me that you have a kind heart, and you are so young, that I feel sure, oh most sure, that you will return to a more virtuous course.” “To virtue!” said Elinor with a smile of scorn “never—never.” As she spoke, a letter dropped from her bosom. Lady Avondale saw from the superscription—the name of Glenarvon. Her heart sickened at the sight; she tried to conceal her emotion; but she had not yet learned sufficiently how to dissemble. Elinor, with ill suppressed rage, watched Lady Avondale: she could scarcely stand the fury of her glance, when in a voice, nearly choked with passion, “take it,” she said, throwing the letter to her. “Yes, you shall give it him—give it to your lover. I would have hated you, I would have injured you; but I cannot. No wonder he admires you: I could myself; but I am miserable.” Lady Avondale raised her eyes; every fierce expression had left Elinor’s countenance: with a subdued, and mournful air, she turned aside as if ashamed of the weakness she had shewn; then, taking a little miniature and chain from her neck, “he sent for this too,” she cried. “He sent for all he gave me, to offer to his new idol. Take it then, lady; and tell him I obeyed his last command.” A tear dimmed for a moment her eye; recovering herself, “he has not power,” she cried, “to break a heart like mine. ’Tis such as you, may die for love—I have yet many years to live.” Lady Avondale sprang forward to return the picture—the letter; but St. Clare, with a precipitancy she was not prepared for, had left her; Lady Avondale arrived at the door of the Castle only in time to see her gallop off.