“Oh, Montressor! Oh! my lord! my dear lord! Oh, woe is me! that I must put far away from my parched lips this draught of joy that would be as the waters of life to my thirsting and famished soul! Oh, woe is me, Lord Montressor, that I must deceive and wound your loving, trusting nature! that I must turn from the light, and life, and warmth you bring me, and bury myself alive in the darkness and coldness of this my living grave! for how long, great Heaven! for how long! I am so young—I shall live so many years! how shall I bear this living death, oh, spirits in Heaven, how shall I bear it! Will my heart break? Will my brain turn? Will death come and end my anguish? I cannot tell! I do not know! but better any fate! any suffering for me, than that reproach should come to your noble name, my lord! And after all—in my bitter, bitter cup—there is a single sweet drop! the thought that I suffer for you, my lord—that I suffer for you, even as I would die for you! Yet if I could see you but for one moment to-day! could feel my poor hand clasped in your dear hand for one instant! could meet one glance of your eyes—what life—what life would thrill again to my dying heart! Oh! heart be still! be strong! this must not be! we must not meet again! Oh, heart! learn the heroism of silent endurance!” While she thus lamented and struggled with herself, there was a rap at the chamber door. “Now I shall hear of him”—she said, as with a supreme effort she controlled her emotion, steadied her voice, and bade the rapper “Come in.” Barbara Brande opened the door and entered. But the traces of extreme suffering were still so strongly marked upon Lady Montressor’s fine countenance, that Babara, instead of the smiling greeting she had been about to offer started back in alarm, exclaiming, “Good Heavens, Mrs. Estel, are you ill?” “Yes—and no, Miss Brande! Come in and close the door, for I wish to speak with you—confidentially.” Barbara in perplexity obeyed. “Draw your chair close beside me, if you please, Miss Brande, for I must speak low.” Barbara feeling more and more embarrassed, complied. “Do you know, Miss Brande, that I regret exceedingly not having given you my full confidence before leaving Baltimore?” “I should have felt honored in your confidence, Madam,” said Barbara with increasing surprise. “At least you would have justified it, no doubt.” “I should not have been undeserving of your faith, Mrs. Estel.” “I am sure of it! But I am called by another name besides Estel.” “Madam!” “Do not look, or speak in this way, my dear Miss Brande, or you will repel the confidence I wish so much to give you,” said Lady Montressor, in a voice, and with a look of such hopeless misery, that Barbara’s heart was touched, and she said very gently— “Speak, then, Madam; I will not be unworthy of your confidence! Your name you said was not Estel.”