Ellen, vexed at her own folly in coming thither, was now obliged to get out of the carriage; and several people passing by, staring first at the carriage, and then at Ellen, she thought it would be better to go for an instant into the house. Mrs. Birtley shewed her into the parlour, and requesting she would be seated, added, "My lodger is gone out, and will not, I suppose, be back till dinner-time: he is generally out all the morning. I believe he knows something of you, Ma'am." "Of me!" repeated Ellen, surprized. "Yes, Ma'am: for when he came here about a week ago, he saw, by accident, that book Mrs. Jane has in her hand; and some writing there was in it seemed to put him into a great passion. He made me tell him how I came by the book, and asked me a thousand questions about you: what was the name of the gentleman you came with, if you were young and handsome, and I don't know what; and I believe what I told him put him into a great rage, for he stampt and swore like a madman." Ellen, vexed and astonished, sorry she had come there, and feeling a certain dread of she hardly knew what stealing over her, now turned extremely pale; and Jane exclaimed, "Oh, my Lady will faint: get some water!" "Your _Lady_! Why she is Mrs. Mordaunt, is not she, _or calls herself so_?" asked Mrs. Birtley with some contempt. "Don't stand there asking questions," said the impatient Jane: "but fetch some water. Lord, I wish we were at home: if my Lady should be ill, how Lady Juliana will scold, and my Lord." "Grant me patience," said Mrs. Birtley, as she left the room to fetch some drops and water: "the girl makes me mad with her Lords and Ladies. Poor fool, I suppose they have imposed upon her too finely." Not one minute had she been gone, when Ellen finding herself better, and not meaning to wait Mrs. Birtley's return, and farther questions, had risen, and by Jane's help almost reached the door to go to the carriage, which through the window she saw drawing up, when that door opened, and Charles Ross entered the room: amazed beyond the power of words to describe, he saw her standing--saw Ellen in his apartment! And forgetting every thing but that he had once dearly loved her, he rushed towards, and would have caught her in his arms, but she evaded his grasp; and catching hold of Jane (who, frightened, gave a sudden scream), said, "He here! Oh, how I am terrified!" "Terrified, Ellen!" he wildly repeated: "_once_ you were not terrified by my appearance." "No, Sir," she replied, with as much spirit as she could assume: "for once I should have expected friendship and protection, not insult." "Ah, wretched girl!" he exclaimed: "once you deserved and wished for my friendship and protection; but now, that fine gaudy carriage, this elegant dress, the jewels, in which I saw you last night, all tell a dreadful tale--all speak of your shame, of your ruin." "Of my shame! of my ruin! what, oh, what do you mean?"