Though Scotch, Ellen had imbibed all the national feelings for those white cliffs, associated from earliest times with this country's history;--the same cliffs that beheld the ancient Briton paddle his basket-work coracle,--the same cliffs that twice saw the haughty Roman conqueror Julius Caesar,--that saw the Saxon with fair hair and blue eyes land on the envied isle,--that beheld the fiery Dane,--the proud Norman,--and, later still, the Spanish Armada sail by in false vainglory,--later still the victorious Wellington welcomed home, whilst drums played, "See the conquering hero comes." Though Scotch, Ellen felt towards them a kindred love, as she saw and now lost them again in the murky night, for the first time in her young life. England and Scotland were one now: all petty distinctions were lost--all party failings, all rancour forgotten; it was the same island, the same home; on its dimly-seen shores were centred all her affections; her hopes and fears were all there; her brother and sister; her relatives and friends; her house and home. He, too, was there; he who had so cruelly deserted her; he who had won her heart, and, when tired of it, thrown it away, as the child flings his broken toy. Despite all, she loved, she adored him yet, and to leave him gave the most venomed point to the shaft of affliction. With heart full to bursting--so full it seemed as if a tight band was drawn round it--and feelings those who have felt them know, but cannot describe, she watched the red harbour-light dip often, and at last sink beneath the bounding surges. And when all was gone, the last lingering link broken, tears all unbidden fast coursed our heroine's cheek, and she scarcely heard her father, who, fearing the effect of the cold night air on his daughter, was anxious to hurry her below. "It is getting cold, Ellen, dear; had you not better descend to the cabin, now? Captain Hardy and I will assist you, as the sea is getting pretty rough." Ellen rose without answering; and, with the jolly captain's help, who was only too glad to give his hand to the Scotch belle, and said many pretty things, praising her as the best sailor he had ever taken across the Channel, reached her berth.