She had just seated herself at the breakfast-table, with Martha, who was now her only and constant companion, seated at its lower end, when old Adam Green, her father’s valet, entered the chamber with a letter. “There is a serving-man below, my lady,” he said, presenting the letter to Evaline, “who charged me to bring thee this; but he holds the name of the writer a secret. Master Gray is also below.” “Bid Master Gray come to me, Adam,” answered Evaline, at the same time accepting the letter. Her countenance fell as she tore the letter open. It was from Sir Walter Raleigh; and informed her, in a few cautious words, of that person’s loss of the Queen’s favour, and forced retirement from the court. Thus, in one brief moment, were all her hopes blighted,--all her expectations overthrown. After she had once learned the tenor of the letter, she hardly retained sufficient perception to carry her to its close. As her eye arrived at the concluding signature, she felt her head whirl again; and, dropping the letter, she fell back in her chair in a swoon. Martha, who had been anxiously watching for the effect which the letter would produce on her features, and, seeing her become dejected, was preparing to console her, sprang to her assistance in a moment. But, unused to see her so deeply moved, the fair girl was herself so agitated, and, withal, so ignorant of what would be serviceable in such a case, that she could do no more than catch her in her arms, and call for more efficient succour. Aid was nearer than she supposed. While she was yet calling out, the door of the chamber, which was right opposite to where she stood, was pushed open, and Bernard Gray rushed in. “What hath happened?” he cried, with a look of concern, at the same time springing to her side. He needed no explanation when he had once glanced at the face of Evaline. Without saying a word, he caught up a jug of water from the table, and proceeded, with all the tenderness of a nurse, to lave it gently over her temples. He watched the effect of his application with the most intense anxiety. No one, indeed, could have gazed on that fair face, now void of bloom and expression, without feeling an almost equal degree of interest and sympathy. Its surpassing beauty looked all the purer and more refined for its lack of animation. Her black hair, falling loosely back, in a dozen fairy ringlets, seemed almost to sparkle in its contrast with her alabaster forehead. The long, raven fringe of her eyelids, which, from their exquisite sphericity, were themselves invested with a charm, was equally striking, and nearly as fascinating as her veiled eyes. Her every feature, indeed, from her brow downwards, still held out some attraction, which would not have been apparent in the animation of the whole, and would have lost its softness under the touch of expression.