ness is as dear to me as it is to
him. We have for very many years been to each other as a brother and
sister, and, believe me, in urging your acceptance of this good young
man, I seek but your welfare alone."

"I believe you, my dear cousin," replied Ellen, frankly holding out her
hand, which Herbert warmly pressed. "But indeed, in this instance, you
are deceived. An union with Walter Cameron would not form my happiness,
worthy as he is,--suitable as the world would deem such a match in all
respects; and sorry as I am to inflict pain and disappointment on the
companion of my childhood, as also, I fear, on his kind mother, I cannot
be his wife."

"And if your affections be already engaged, far be it from me to urge
you farther; but"--

"I said not that they were, Herbert," interrupted Ellen, steadily
fixing, as she spoke, her large eyes unshrinkingly on her cousin's face.
Herbert felt fairly puzzled, he could not read her heart; he would have
asked her confidence, he would have promised to do all in his power to
forward her happiness, but there was something around her that, while it
called forth his almost unconscious respect, entirely checked all
farther question. He did not fancy that she loved another, and yet why
this determined rejection of a young man whom he knew she esteemed.

"I am only grieving you by continuing the subject," he said; "and
therefore grant me your forgiveness, dearest Ellen, and your final
answer to Cameron, and it shall be resumed no more."

"I have nothing to forgive, Herbert," replied Ellen, somewhat
mournfully.

She sat a few minutes longer, in saddened thought, gazing on the open
letter, and then quitted the room and sought her own. She softly closed
the door, secured it, and then sinking on a low seat beside her couch,
buried her pale face in her hands, and for a few minutes remained
overwhelmed by that intensity of secret and tearless suffering. It was
called forth afresh by this interview with her cousin: to hear his lips
plead thus eloquently the cause of another; to hear him say that perhaps
she was one of those who would never love to its full extent. When her
young heart felt bursting beneath the load of deep affection pressing
there, one sweet alone mingled in that cup of bitterness, Herbert
guessed not, suspected not the truth. She had succeeded well in
concealing the anguish called forth by unrequited love, and she would
struggle on.

"Never, never shall it be known tha