a had not, however, written
in perfect confidence, but still as if she feared to write too much on
emotions she scarcely understood herself, Ellen had not answered her as
she would otherwise have done. That her sympathy was Lilla's was very
clearly evident, but as the secrecy preserved towards Mrs. Hamilton had
been made known to her by Emmeline, she had not written again on the
subject, but yet Ellen was not deceived; in every letter she received
she could easily penetrate where Lilla's anxious thoughts were
wandering. Of Cecil Grahame there were still no tidings, and, all
circumstances considered, it did not seem strange she should often be
sorrowful and anxious. On dismissing this subject, Mrs. Hamilton had
asked Ellen to sing to her, and selected, as a very old favourite, "The
Graves of the Household." She had always forgotten it, she said, before,
when Ellen wished her to select one she preferred. She was surprised
that Ellen had not reminded her of it, as it had once been an equal
favourite with her. For a moment Ellen hesitated, and then hastened to
the piano. In a low, sweet, yet unfaltering voice, she complied with her
aunt's request; once only her lip quivered, for she could not sing that
verse without the thought of Edward.

"The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one,
He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep."

Mr. Hamilton unobserved had entered the room, and now stood with folded
arms and mournful glance, alternately regarding his wife and niece. Mr.
Maitland had that morning told him there was not now the slightest
danger remaining, and he rather advised that Mrs. Hamilton should be
informed of what had passed, lest the painful intelligence should come
upon her when quite unprepared. He had striven for composure, and he now
entered expressly to execute this painful task; he had marked the
suffering imprinted on his niece's face, and he could continue the
deception no longer. On the conclusion of her song, Ellen reseated
herself on the stool she had occupied at her aunt's feet, her heart too
full to speak.

"Why are you so silent, my dear husband?" Mrs. Hamilton said, addressing
him, and who almost started at her address. "May I know the subject of
such very deep thought?"

"Ellen, partly," he replied, and he spoke the truth. "I was thinking how
pale and thin she looks, and how much she has lately had to distress and
cause her anxiety."

"She