This suggestion seemed to complete the dismay of Mordaunt: he trembled, and turned pale. Ross, bowing, wished him "good morning," and walked away. Mordaunt, after a moment's recollection, followed him hastily, and as they walked, endeavoured to enter into a more general conversation, apparently in the hope that he was going home, and that by going with him, he might see Ellen: but Ross was going to visit a sick parishioner at some distance. Mordaunt was therefore obliged to take leave of him at the door of his own lodgings: he ventured to say, as they parted, "I shall take an early opportunity of inquiring for my friends at the Parsonage, Mr. Ross." In answer to which Ross bowed, and said, but not very cordially, he should be glad to see him. "And must I bear all this!" said Mordaunt, as they parted: "to what have I reduced myself? Yet this, and more, sweet Ellen, will I bear for thee! Yet to what purpose? Can I, dare I, link thee to such a fate as mine may be? Yet can I leave thee, or bear to be so near, and not to see thee? To be forbidden, at least by looks forbidden to approach thee: to encounter the angry glances of a narrow-minded woman, and even by her benevolent husband to be received with coldness almost bordering on contempt? Yes, Ellen, I will bear it all! Would to heaven they would have left us to ourselves, till time--till the full conviction of her affection--they need not have feared." Thus in broken sentences murmured Mordaunt, as he strode impatiently across his narrow apartment, and determined nothing should prevent him from seeing Ellen, and ascertaining whether Ross's fears for her health were not merely a pretence for separating them.