"Then why does she not speak?" rejoined Percy, impetuously; for when he found his mother resuming control and firmness, he had given vent to his indignation by striding hastily up and down the room. "What but the most determined hardihood and wickedness can keep her silent, when you promise forgiveness if she will but speak? What mystery can there, or ought there, to be about her, when she has such an indulgent friend as yourself to bring all her troubles to? Wretched! I hope she is, for she deserves to be, if it were only for her base ingratitude." "Percy! dear Percy! do not speak and judge so very harshly," interposed Herbert, with deep feeling; "there does, indeed, seem no excuse for her conduct, but if we ever should find that there is some extenuating cause, how unhappy we shall be for having judged her still more harshly than she deserved." "It is impossible we can do that," muttered Percy, continuing his angry walk. "Nothing but guilt can be the cause of her keeping any thing from my mother. Ellen knows, as we all know, that even error when confessed, has always been forgiven, sorrow always soothed, and every difficulty removed. What can her silence spring from, then, but either defying obstinacy or some blacker sin?" "It does seem like it, unhappily," rejoined Caroline, but very sorrowfully, not at all as if she triumphed in her own previous penetration; "but she can not persevere in it long. Dear mamma, do not look so distressed: it is impossible she can resist you for any length of time." "She has resisted every offer of kindness, my dear child, and it is the difficulty as to what course to pursue, to compel submission and confession, that so grieves and perplexes me." "Let me seek Mr. Howard, dearest mother," answered Herbert; "he is so good, so kind, even in his severest judgments, that I really think Ellen will scarcely be able to persevere in her mistaken silence, if he speak to her." Mrs. Hamilton paused for some moments in thought. "I believe you are right, Herbert. If I must have counsel out of my own family, I can not go to a kinder, wiser, or more silent friend. If the fearful shame which I must inflict on Ellen to-night of proving Robert's innocence before my whole household, by the denouncement of her guilt, have no effect in softening her, I will appeal to him." "Oh, mamma, must this be--can you not, will you not spare her this?" implored Emmeline, clinging to her mother, in passionate entreaty; "it would kill me, I know it would. Do not--do not expose her to such shame." "Do you think it is no suffering to my mother to be called upon to do this, Emmeline, that you add to it by this weak interference?" replied Percy, sternly, before his mother could reply. "Shame! she has shamed us all enough. There wants little more to add to it."