The scene was again the library, where she had been writing, and the time nearing the short twilight of October. It was three weeks, rather more, since Sir Edward Manly's letter had been received, and Edward was, therefore, almost daily expected. The feelings with which his unhappy sister looked to his return it would be a vain attempt to define. At times the intense longing to see him again, caused a wild, almost sick feeling of pleasure, that she might, perhaps, so soon do so; then came all that had passed, and she pictured his anger, his loathing--true it had been for him, but he had not thought of such a deed. He would, he must hate and spurn her, too; and the idea of meeting him became absolute agony. Then--and she shuddered in dread--would he think that he must acknowledge it was for him she had thus acted? and, if so, had she not betrayed instead of saving him? Incident after incident in their childhood rose before her, to give her hope that he would be silent now as then, and not betray himself; but these contending terrors, united with the constant though silent suffering of her banishment from all she loved, the utter hopelessness as to the end of this trial, had not been without their effect on the outward frame. Ellis did not see it, from so constantly watching her, and from Ellen never refusing to take the exercise she desired her, and not making a single complaint as to the pain it was sometimes to walk, and always to swallow her meals; but as she stood opposite to her aunt, in the full light of the oriel window--her approach had been so noiseless, Mrs. Hamilton, who was bending over some papers, did not see her till she chanced to look up--the attenuation of form and feature was so very visible, that her aunt could not prevent herself from starting painfully, and the words with which she had intended to address her froze on her lips. It was with the utmost difficulty she refrained from folding her to her heart, and trying, by every means affection could devise, to soothe or remove that anguish, whatever its nature, far too deep and constant for one so very young; but how dared she do this, when, by this determined silence, Ellen so defied her authority, and seemed so resolved that neither severity nor kindness, nor her own sufferings should humble her spirit, though they had even affected her frame?