took place she knew not; it seemed to her as if a violent ringing of bells mingled with other confused sounds struck her ears before she had entirely lost consciousness; and when she regained it, she found herself on a sofa surrounded by her female attendants, who, she saw, had been employing all the usual means for restoring animation after a fainting fit. She looked round the room to see if any one else were present; but in vain, and her maid said in reply to her unexpressed thought:

"Mr. Stapylton has just walked down to the Lodge, Ma'am."

She threw herself back upon the cushions weeping passionately; till, ashamed of showing such violence of emotion in presence of persons to whom, however kind and zealous, she could not explain the nature of her grief, she requested to be left alone; but added as her maid and nurse unwillingly quitted the room, that she wished the baby to be brought to her. At sight of this little disowned being, a fresh burst of sorrow overwhelmed her; "I know now," murmured she straining the infant to her bosom, "why you, and only you are to be left I pitied Gertrude, oh how deeply! when

me!

your sister was torn from her; yet, she was owned at least if not welcomed; while you are rejected with scorn and branded with shame!" But as she clasped the child anew to her breast, praying fervently for such patience and power of resignation as could alone enable her to retain life and senses, it seemed as if her soul was filled with a counterbalancing force of love, bearing her up against the stunning blow just dealt her; and gradually, as she caressed her infant, the bitterness of her feelings was softened; the extremity of her despair so far subsiding that after some lapse of time she grew able to reflect more clearly than she had thought she could ever do again.

She began to think over the nature of the accusations brought against her, and a feeling of hope suddenly glided into her heart as she considered that, although malice had distorted, or blind prejudice coloured one fact she did not attempt to deny, yet the clandestine meeting with her cousin at Burfield Lodge was utterly fabulous, and if shown to be so, must necessarily cause the rest to fall to the ground. She therefore endeavoured to call to mind the occurrences of the last days she spent at that place the

winter before, with a view to recollecting where she had been, and how employed at the moment when she was supposed to have been seen under such equivocal circumstances. But her memory only presented her with a gloomy blank-a sad monotony; nor had the uneventful course of her life at Mrs. Mansell's supplied anything to mark the day preceding that which her husband's final visit had stamped indelibly on her mind.

It was in vain that she tortured herself for recollections: the whole continued wrapt in a mist of oblivion, nor could she say to herself "I passed that afternoon in my grandmother's room," "in the village with Mrs. Vincent," or "in the nursery with the children." with the children." Her efforts to remember only resulted in additional bewilderment, and in such a bitter pang of disappointment at being compelled to resign the hope of thus vindicating herself, as made it very difficult to force herself again to the consideration of what-as things actually were it now became her to resolve and to do.

A vague idea of appealing to General and Mrs. Thorold-of imploring their help and

protection—had flitted through her mind; but on consideration, it appeared an impossibility. Stapylton's suspicions, and one of the strongest circumstances on which they rested, involved the mention of their journey to the south of France, the disclosure of its end and object; the two things were so interwoven that she must tell all, or attempt no justification; and, in spite of the vehemence with which (when goaded into resistance by sense of her own honour and zeal for her child) she had refused to obey the commands laid on her, she would have shrunk from exposing her husband's guilt, even if it had not been inextricably bound up with that of her cousin.

Ellen's position was singularly isolated; for she had but one relation in the world from whom she could in doubt or difficulty have claimed assistance, and that relation wasEverard Mansell. She was therefore helpless -powerless-and could see but one course before her. She must yield to the storm; submit to her fate; and as she bowed herself to this, she began also to reflect that by any endeavour at contesting her husband's will with regard to their separation and the manner of it,

she might run the risk of confirming-nay, of perpetuating his suspicions, and thus rendering their breach eternal; while her whole soul clung to the chance of its termination one day, however distant. She expected also some effect, from Barbara and Everard's constancy; for if time and reason failed to convince Stapylton of his error, the discovery of their mutual love and faith must, she thought, remove the veil from his eyes; and this faint glimmer of hope, so far off, so uncertain, afforded a point to look to, a ray of light amid the total darkness of the narrow and gloomy path allotted to her.

She prayed earnestly to be granted strength and steadiness of mind sufficient for the hard task before her; that, namely, of taking such measures as should preserve her own dignity at the same time that she avoided what would permanently exasperate her husband, and it was well that she had in some degree brought her mind to a decision, for about six in the evening a note was brought to her from the Lodge, in which Stapylton inquired "whether she had thought better of her intentions, or still persisted in a course which could only bring