Through that day nothing particularly occurred; and again darkness came, again Ellen refused to retire unless she had Juana's word for her safety; it was given, and that night she actually slept. Another, and another, and still another day wore by--still she had seen no living soul but Juana and Jeanie Forbes, and she began half to lose her fears--half to despair. The first, because long acquaintance with misery naturally takes off the keenness of its sting, and she was so fully prepared for the worst, the present seemed quite bright; the last, because several days had now passed, and yet no succour came. Could Lord Wentworth have waxed cold? Could her father forget, or had some fearful deception been practised on them? Left together night and day, the two girls naturally drew to each other; in everything they were entire opposites, not only in their remote styles of beauty, but in character; and, perhaps, for this reason, like the different electric currents, they attracted each other the more. Juana admired the fair Saxon beauty, not so much because of her dazzling complexion, so pure and sunny, though now shaded by grief,--not so much from her fair tresses, and melting blue eyes,--as for the high toned principle--the lofty mind--firm resolve, and patient endurance she displayed under her trying ordeal; and Ellen admired not so much the ebon hair--large dazzling eyes--and brilliant colouring of the fair Spaniard, as she did the full fervour of her character, and the warm affections of one who was-- "Warm as her clime and sunny as her skies." They used to talk together for hours--generally Ellen was the listener, and much was she absorbed by the wild tales of other zones Juana could tell. One thing Ellen had ceased to ask, and that was why she was there. Juana seemed above all entreaty, and kept her secret as the rock does its hidden spring: it required a prophet's stroke to make it unlock its waters! Days went on, and still no explanation either by word or deed came. Saturday night wore through, and Sunday morning dawned; Ellen had now been a week and more in captivity, and still it was unexplained. She had never once been outside the castle, but late on Sunday afternoon Juana told her, if she liked to breathe the fresh air she might come out for an hour or so with her, on condition she promised she would make no attempt to regain her freedom. "Alas! to what purpose, Antonia?" replied Ellen, for by this name she only knew her; "how could I fly with such strict watchers?"