t she had no power even to repel this repulsion, much less cast its
object off.

For a time, Ralph had broken up the monotony of this dead life, with his
wild conjectures and bitter complaints. He spoke of his half-brother in
wrath the more stern and deep, that his love for him had once been so
full of tenderness. He was like a man whose old religious faith being
once uprooted, believes that no other can exist, and that the Deity is
unstable. In his wrath against this brother--in his weak distrust of
Lina, the young man had recklessly cast away the brightest jewel of his
nature, because they appeared faithless; he believed that all humanity
was frail. Alas! when such gems of the soul drop away in youth, it is
only with hard experience and keen suffering that they can be gathered
back from the depths of life again.

But, during the last few days, Ralph had seen little of his mother. His
interview with Lina, and his promise of silence, had effected this. The
dead certainty that fell upon him of her utter unworthiness, had buried
all the fiery passions of his heart into a smouldering desire for
revenge on the man who had smitten her down from the altar of his
esteem. Formerly he had raved, and argued, and out-run his own belief of
her faithlessness--hoping, poor fellow, that out of all this storm some
proof would be wrung that his suspicions wronged her. His mother's sweet
attempts at defence--her broken-hearted efforts to explain away the
disgraceful appearances that hung around the departure of Harrington and
her protege at the same time, only exasperated him. He wanted her to
condemn his suspicions--contradict, trample on them. He would have
gloried in any injustice against himself, if she had only stood up
stoutly against his bitter suspicions. But Mabel was too truthful for
this. The proud heart recoiled in her bosom, as from a blow, at every
harsh word against either Harrington or her adopted daughter. The strong
sense of justice, which was her finest attribute, kept her from those
impetuous bursts of defence, which a single gleam of doubt would have
brought vividly to her lips.

Mabel did not for an instant believe in the coarse interpretation which
others might have given to the elopement; had that been possible, the
keenest of her pain might have been dulled by contempt. No, no! The
worst that she thought was that Harrington, for some inexplicable
reason, had withdrawn Lina from her home to marry her in private;