At last he stopped before me, and
after looking at me in silence for a few minutes, he said,
"You are a spoilt child, my Ellen, in the fullest sense of the
word. Your life has been too happy"--(Good God! was _that_ the
conclusion he had come to?)--"you have known nothing of the
real trials of life, or you would not take pleasure in
creating them for yourself. Believe me, Ellen, do not plant
unnecessary thorns in a path where they will spring up but too
naturally. What is there wanting to your happiness _now?_ Is
not our mutual love as strong as ever? Is not my whole soul
devoted to you? In a few days you will be my wife, and when I
promise to love and cherish you until death shall part us, it
will be no empty vow that will pass my lips, but a solemn
pledge which my whole life shall redeem. But do not expect
from me the language of romance, the cant of sentiment; I look
upon you as the dearest and most precious treasure that was
ever consigned to a man's keeping, but not as an idol before
which I must bow. I must strengthen you with my strength,
rather than yield to your weakness; in my very harshness,
Ellen, there is a tenderness which you may trust in, for
though it may sometimes wound, it will never fail you."

Penitent and subdued I listened in silence to Edward's words.
Earnestly and humbly I pressed his hand to my heart, and when
we parted that night I felt that though I feared him more, I
loved him also with a more solemn tenderness and a deeper
reverence than ever.

CHAPTER XVIII.

"'T is done **** the fatal vow
Has passed my lips! Methought in those sad moments,
The tombs around, the saints, the darkened altar
And all the trembling shrines with horror shook."

TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.

The following morning, when Henry came to breakfast with
Edward previous to their departure, Mrs. Middleton had a long
conversation with him. She proposed to him that Alice should
come and stay with us during his absence. He gladly accepted
this offer, and wrote a line to his wife recommending her to
do so in a way that left her no option.

Edward had left me in a state of mind which made Alice's
society very acceptable to me; my spirits were subdued, and
Henry's absence removed the restless irritation which I
usually felt in his presence. My time was taken up in a great
measure by the number of little occupations which my
approaching marriage occasioned. Presents came pouring in
daily from relation