CHAPTER XXVI.

Man begegnet sich: man trennt sich: man verliert sich: Das is das Leben. Der Mondsüchtige.

IN

the busy days preceding Norah's departure no visitors were admitted; but Colonel Oliphant and Lord John called with a daily offering of game; and one evening they effected an entrance, to propose that the children might be sent to pass a day at the Oaks, so as to be out of the way. The offer was declined, however; and both Norah and Ellen were up stairs at the time. On Sunday they met in Dornton, as they came out of church. It was Norah's last day, and she looked fagged and weary; while Ellen's composure was so hardly maintained, that both gentlemen felt the necessity of hurrying over their leave-taking. It was kindly meant; yet Ellen pined for one sustaining word from Hugh, and her heart sank as he turned away.

'I do not like you to fret so much about me,' Norah said to her, as they sat alone together in the deepening twilight; 'you look so woe-begone, that I almost feel I am doing wrong in leaving you.'

Ellen laid her head in her sister's lap with a sudden gesture of despondency.

'Oh! Norah, I wish you would take me with

'Not really,' Norah said, with a playful attempt to raise Ellen's drooping head; but it only sunk lower, as she strove to hide her tears and blushes.

'Yes, really. I am so weak and foolish; and while I might lean on you I felt less afraid, but now there will be no one to understand.'

'You are nervous and out of spirits, dear child,' said Norah; 'in your very first letter I expect to hear of a perfect understanding, which will make any want of home-sympathy of little consequence. And you know how I shall understand and sympathise, however far away.'

'Yes, Norah, but even you-' said Ellen, struggling to explain the misconception which blinded Norah's eyes to the true source of her hopes and fears. The words would, not come, or were lost in such passionate tears, that Norah herself was only anxious to avoid an explanation.

'You are nervous,' she repeated soothingly; ' and I know what you would say that the day

is come when I must be content with the second place in your affection; and I do not claim more. Everything else can be better told by letter, and you must go to bed now, and sleep away those tears.'

'It is very selfish of me to worry you to-night,' said Ellen; but Norah would listen to no selfaccusations, and dismissed her with one of those tender good-nights for which she must in future hours of dreariness and depression yearn in vain.

There was more bustle than sentiment in the start on the following morning; and Norah's last act was characteristic, for she ran the chance

of missing her train, by waiting to exact Anne's promise, that she would take Ellen to a concert in Dornton on the following evening; and then adding a hurried postscript to a note she had written to Mrs. Oliphant, which must secure the attendance of the two gentlemen. Ellen found enough to divert her from her own troubles in restoring the equanimity of the two boys; and there was also the somewhat dreary occupation of destroying or otherwise disposing of all nursery relics, in order that the house might re-assume its former condition of trim preciseness. But it was a long, heavy day, and though Anne, with the additional asperity with which she always made such a concession, directed that any visitors were to be admitted, neither Lord John nor Colonel Oliphant came to profit by the permission.

The following morning brought letters which might, had they arrived twenty-four hours before, have induced Norah to renounce her scheme of departure, for George wrote freely and in his natural spirits; admitting that he had been uneasy about the stability of the South African Bank; and adding, that all cause for alarm had now subsided. Though Ellen could scarcely feel sufficiently grateful for the good news, since it was too late to recall Norah, the relief was in great measure shared by all, and only forgotten in the interest excited by a letter she received by the same post from Lady Cecil. Beginning with all the gossip and pleasantry which could be collected, the letter ended hurriedly, and in a different tone. The post has just come in,'

6

Cecil continued, 'bringing a letter from Lady Woodville's maid, for my Aunt never writes herself; from which it appears, that Mary is seriously ill with an attack of low fever. Mary has not written herself for some days, and my Aunt is such an alarmist about illness, that we hope the account may be exaggerated; but it certainly is not comfortable, so Mamma is writing to Johnny to desire him to ride over to Alban Manor, and ascertain Mary's real state; and Mamma will decide on his report what to do next. I know you will feel for our anxiety, dear Ellen; and no doubt Johnny will let you know more directly than I can, how he finds her.'

Ellen was more affected by this intelligence than her sisters could altogether understand.

'I never heard you say much of Miss Mortimer, Anne observed.

She was so reserved and quiet that one could not say much of her,' replied Ellen, for she could not betray her conviction, that Mary had suffered silently under Lord John's fickle attentions to herself, and that this illness was brought on by mental distress. She soon left the room, and

Kate sagaciously observed:

'I dare say poor Ellen is rather upset that Lord John should be summoned away before he has made his declaration.'

'Matters

'It is very unfortunate,' said Anne. are left in a most unsatisfactory state; at least, though it appears from Lady Cecil's letter that she has no doubt of his intentions, I cannot discover that there has been any explanation.'

'Why do you not ask Ellen?' said Clara.

'Because Norah made me promise not to do so, nor to interfere in any way. I fear it is an unwise business altogether; and I should act very differently if the thing could be done over again.' And Anne went away with a very disturbed face.

Not long after this, when Ellen was reading Roman History with the two boys, Kate came to summon her to the drawing-room.

'O Ellen!' she said, 'Colonel Oliphant is here, and wants to see you. It is so strange! he came in when we three were sitting together, and looked round in a dissatisfied way as if no one was in the room, and asked for you. When Anne said you were in the schoolroom, he said he could find his way there, but she would not allow that, and sent me to call you.'

With outward quietness and a fluttering heart, Ellen obeyed the summons, and in another moment her hand was in Hugh's nervous grasp.

'I find,' he said, 'that I am not the first to inform you of Miss Mortimer's illness.'

Cecil wrote, but very hurriedly,' said Ellen. 'Did Lord John seem very uneasy?'

'Possibly,' said Hugh, he felt it more because he said little. He set off for Alban Manor at once, leaving a note for you which may tell more than I can.'

He gave her the note with an openness and absence of suspicion for which Ellen was duly grateful; yet her cheeks crimsoned with the consciousness that her sisters watched the transaction