er sake,
in the name of your dying mother, whose letter Mrs. Brandon
will show you; for my sake, for your own; I implore you not
to drive me to despair! for again I repeat it, unutterable
misery, which you do not, which you cannot, now understand
or foresee, awaits you, if you should revise to yield to my
entreaties."

"Henry, you speak a strange language, and I must know the
truth. I am tired of doubts; I am tired of fears; I am weary
of my life; and I must speak. What unknown misery do you
threaten me with? What are your secrets? Ay, I must know
them!" And in my turn, I seized his arm, and pushing away the
hair from my forehead, I looked him full in the face. "Why am
I to avoid the Tracys? Why do vulgar ruffians use your name to
terrify me into a marriage with you? Why am I now to be forced
into a secret marriage, and at a day's notice? and if your
ungovernable passions are not instantly gratified, why are you
to plunge into guilt and into despair?"

Frightened at my own violence, I sat down breathless and
trembling. He on the contrary had grown calm, and there was
almost a sneer on his lips as he answered, "Those vulgar
ruffians are relatives of the Tracys, and, for their sakes, I
wished to spare them an exposure which would have been of no
use to any one. I believe that they meant no more than a
foolish practical joke, of which the account was highly
coloured by Rosa Moore; but you can easily understand that
such people would not be desirable acquaintances to make, and
I, therefore, recommended you to keep away from a house where
you might meet them. As to the misery that you may bring upon
yourself, Ellen, if you return to Elmsley, I may not, perhaps,
fully make you feel it; but when I tell you, that your uncle,
determined as he is to prevent your marrying me, is as much
determined to make you marry Edward Middleton, you may,
perhaps, form some idea of it."

"Marry Edward," (I muttered to myself,) and then shuddering at
the recollection of the words he was reported to have said--I
cried, "No, no; that can never be."

"No, never," said Henry, in a solemn voice. "There is a gulf
between you which can never be filled up."

"What, what?" I cried with a sensation of terror.

"Did you not say just now yourself, Ellen, that such a
marriage never could be? But you know not what persecution
would be employed in order to bring it about. Poor Julia's
death was, in a worldly sense, a great advantage to you. It
mad