o calls Ellen Halloway?" said the wretched woman,
who had again resumed her slovenly meal on the rude couch, apparently
without consciousness of the scene enacting at her side. "I am not
Ellen Halloway: they said so; but it is not true. My husband was
Reginald Morton: but he went for a soldier, and was killed; and I never
saw him more."

"Reginald Morton! What mean you, woman?--What know you of Reginald
Morton?" demanded Wacousta, with frightful energy, as, leaning over the
shrinking form of Clara, he violently grasped and shook the shoulder of
the unhappy maniac.

"Stop; do not hurt me, and I will tell you all, sir," she almost
screamed. "Oh, sir, Reginald Morton was my husband once; but he was
kinder than you are. He did not look so fiercely at me; nor did he
pinch me so."

"What of him?--who was he?" furiously repeated Wacousta, as he again
impatiently shook the arm of the wretched Ellen. "Where did you know
him?--Whence came he?"

"Nay, you must not be jealous of poor Reginald:" and, as she uttered
these words in a softening and conciliating tone, her eye was turned
upon those of the warrior with a mingled expression of fear and
cunning. "But he was very good and very handsome, and generous; and we
lived near each other, and we loved each other at first sight. But his
family were very proud, and they quarrelled with him because he married
me; and then we became very poor, and Reginald went for a soldier,
and--; but I forget the rest, it is so long ago." She pressed her hand
to her brow, and sank her head upon her chest.

"Ellen, woman, again I ask you where he came from? this Reginald Morton
that you have named. To what county did he belong?"

"Oh, we were both Cornish," she answered, with a vivacity singularly in
contrast with her recent low and monotonous tone; "but, as I said
before, he was of a great family, and I only a poor clergyman's
daughter."

"Cornish!--Cornish, did you say?" fiercely repeated the dark Wacousta,
while an expression of loathing and disgust seemed for a moment to
convulse his features; "then is it as I had feared. One word more. Was
the family seat called Morton Castle?"

"It was," unhesitatingly returned the poor woman, yet with the air of
one wondering to hear a name repeated, long forgotten even by herself.
"It was a beautiful castle too, on a lovely ridge of hills; and it
commanded such a nice view of the sea, close to the little port of
----; and the parsonage stood in such