e you at once a rich heiress." (I could not stifle a groan
of anguish, but Henry went on as if he had not heard it.) "I
happen to know that your uncle has settled the whole of his
property upon you in the event of your marrying Edward; but I
also know that he will disinherit either of you who should
refuse to comply with that condition."

"I never will consent to it. Let him have my uncle's fortune;
let me be banished from Elmsley; but nothing shall ever make
me agree to what would degrade him and myself."

"Then, Ellen," eagerly exclaimed Henry; "then, Ellen, if such
is your resolution, do not hesitate an instant more. Once
married to me, you are safe in my arms from dangers which you
do not dream of, which I dare not point out to you. Ellen, I
tremble for myself and for you if you should refuse me.
Together, we may have trials to meet; but parted, they will be
fearful. We must meet them together. Our fates are linked in a
strange mysterious manner. There is a similarity in our
destinies, and if you leave me now--"

He paused, his voice was choked with the violence of his
emotion; the reckless, the daring Henry Lovell was weeping
like a child. Oh, then again I thought I liked him, for I
knelt down by his side, I took his hand in mine, I bathed it
with my tears, and I whispered to him that I would promise
anything, that I would plight my faith to him, do anything but
consent to the secret marriage he proposed.

Again and again, he urged it with increasing vehemence, with
ardent supplications. Once he said, "Ellen, you are destroying
my happiness and your own; but not ours alone; you know not
what you do. The fate of a pure and innocent existence is at
this moment in your hands; do not doom it to secret anguish,
to hopeless sorrow. Have mercy on yourself, on me, on her!"

In vain I pressed him to explain himself; he only protested,
over and over again, with still greater agitation, and even
swore that we must be married now or never; that it was
useless to speak of the future. He spurned every alternative,
and every promise I offered to make; till, at last, indignant
and irritated, I exclaimed, as I got up and turned towards the
town, "Well, then, let it be so; let us part for ever;
everything is at an end between us."

He rushed before me, stopped me, held both my hands in his
iron grasp, and with a countenance that one could hardly have
recognised as his own, so dreadful was its expression of rage,
he said,