"Behold it," said Ellen, drawing it forth. The blade was very elaborately engraved with Indian devices; along the centre was carved the owner's name--George Elliot Ravensworth. The steel was very bright--the handle formed of silver finely chased. "Let me have it in my hands?" "You won't betray your trust, you won't deprive me of my only, sad comfort." "Trust me." "I will," said Ellen, "falsehood never shaded that fair brow." Juana took the weapon, and then read the name. "What! did you say this was your brother's?" "Yes, my poor George's; he is now dead!" "Oh, my God!" cried Juana, "and have I lived to see his sister?" "Antonia, what is this?--surely my life is charmed--what now?" "Ellen, my own sister--my dearest--noblest--best--beloved sister," and with her native warmth of character she threw herself on Ellen, and kissed her again and again. "Antonia, dearest Antonia, what is it all?" "Enough, moments are priceless; they are near--but there is yet ample time. Ellen, I will save you, I may compromise my life, but I will save you; nay, thank me not now, hear me." "Noble girl, you shall not; if you save me, you shall be safe too, you will go with me--nothing shall sever us." "Listen, Ellen; some of my life I have told you, never this part. When I was in America I was once nearly drowned by the upsetting of a boat; I was rescued by a noble young officer,--he was your brother George. I will not delay by narrating details, suffice to say we became deeply in love--we were to be married! Lady, I am not what I seem, my blood is as high as thine, nay doubtless far higher! but death separated us. George died, I closed his eyes, I followed him to the dark tomb, and there I left my heart. I came to England; I was introduced to Lord Wentworth--I will not hide any thing--I accepted his love. Oh, I loved him well, and he loved me too once,--till, lady, he met you again,--he then left me, not as many another would have done, he left me with house and fortune. Nothing could make up for lost love; I became miserable, I then came to Scotland. There are those who strive to get us married, for under that promise I stooped to become the unhappy woman I did; it was untrue, he never gave me that promise, I was duped, I will not say by whom. For this reason, Ellen, you are here; for this reason I became the mock Italian, and secreted near the cave, heard Lord Wentworth propose, and you accept him, only on condition he never spoke to myself again. Lady, I honour you for it. This is my tale. I am Juana Ferraras! I will save you yet; you shall be the happy wife of him you love so well, I will sink to be the deserted, hopeless wreck I was before,--your marriage destroys my last chance. When you are happy, Ellen, sometimes at such an hour as this, when eve falls drear, you will think of her who parted with her last hope, who gave up all to make you happy!"