“We must not speak to each other. I shall lose the self-command I have so struggled to obtain. But I have behaved well, Algernon. I have conducted myself according to your wishes?” “Yes! yes! May God bless you, dearest and best! I cannot trust myself to say another word.” He hastened away, and went to the stables, as though to see for the horses and the barouche. Ellen busied herself in examining a picture, of which she did not see one form, and drove back her bursting tears, and stilled the tumult of her soul. On their way home, Lady Coverdale was eloquent on the beauties of this part of the world, on the charms of Belhanger, and discussed with much interest the plan for the flower-garden which Ellen was making along the terrace in front of the house. “When your shrubs have grown, and the creepers cover that bowered walk to the left, it will be quite beautiful. Are you not always very impatient at the slow growth of plants? One has to wait so long before one sees any result produced. I think it is a great objection to gardening. However, you are very young, and you may look forward to many years of enjoying your improvements.” These simple words shot like daggers through Ellen’s heart. She could not reply, and notwithstanding all her efforts to appear at her ease, the conversation flagged. Caroline had seen Ellen speak in a low voice to Mr. Hamilton, while others were engaged with the paintings; she had seen him suddenly leave the room, and perceiving how oppressed Ellen’s spirits were, became thoroughly convinced some serious disagreement had occurred. “Well,” she thought, “I suppose it will all come right again. Everybody cannot go on so smoothly as dear Mr. Allenham and I do!” When they returned from their excursion, Ellen retired to her room. She had not the heart, as usual, to repair to the nursery or the school-room. The sight of her two elder children harrowed her soul, from the fear that she possessed them only for a time, that they would be torn from her just when their opening intelligence, their amiable dispositions, had superadded to the instinctive love of a mother, the affection produced by their own good qualities. The sight of her little girl was scarcely less agonising, from the conviction that she must soon be a nameless outcast! She had again recourse to prayer, and she again rose from her devotions strengthened and resigned. At that moment a gentle tap at the door was heard, and Algernon entered. “I must see you, I must speak to you, Ellen! Human nature cannot endure this continued state of effort. Let us unbend for a few short moments. Tell me you love me, and that, let our fate be what it may, your heart, your whole heart, is mine.”