gence had never been extended to
Emmeline, prosperity unalloyed, save in the affair with Arthur Myrvin,
had been her portion. Affection and caresses had been ever lavished
almost unconsciously upon her, but instead of cherishing faults, such
treatment had formed her happiness, and had encouraged and led her on
in the paths of virtue. Every thought and feeling were expressed without
disguise; she had been so accustomed to think aloud to her mother from
childhood, so accustomed to give vent to her little vexations in words,
her sorrows in tears, which were quickly dried, that as years increased,
she found it a very difficult task either to restrain her sentiments or
control her feelings. Her mind could not be called weak, for in her
affection for Arthur Myrvin, as we have seen, when there was a
peremptory call for exertion or self-control, it was ever heard and
attended to. Her health indeed suffered, but that very fact proved the
mind was stronger than the frame; though when she marked Ellen's
superior composure and coolness, Emmeline would sometimes bitterly
reproach herself. From her birth, Ellen had been initiated in sorrow,
her infant years had been one scene of trial. Never caressed by her
mother or those around her, save when her poor father was near, she had
learned to bury every affectionate yearning deep within her own little
heart, every childish sentiment was carefully concealed, and her
father's death, the horrors of that night, appeared to have placed the
seal on her character, infant as she was. She was scarcely ten when she
became an inmate of her aunt's family, but then it was too late for her
character to become as Emmeline's. The impression had been made on the
yielding wax, and now it could not be effaced. Many circumstances
contributed to strengthen this impression, as in the first portion of
this history we have seen. Adversity had made Ellen as she was, and
self-control had become her second nature, long before she knew the
meaning of the word.

The intelligence of Herbert's death, though deferred till St. Eval
thought his wife enabled to bear it with some composure, had, however,
so completely thrown her back, that she was quite unequal to travel to
England, as her wishes had instantly dictated, and her husband was
compelled to keep up a constant system of deception with regard to her
mother's illness, lest she should insist, weak as she was, on
immediately flying to her aid. As soon as sufficient