Fanshawe's first
impulse was to address her in words of rapturous delight; but he checked
himself, and attempted--vainly indeed--to clothe his voice in tones of
calm courtesy. His remark merely expressed pleasure at her restoration to
health; and Ellen's low and indistinct reply had as little relation to the
feelings that agitated her.
"Yet I fear," continued Fanshawe, recovering a degree of composure, and
desirous of assigning a motive (which he felt was not the true one) for
Ellen's agitation,--"I fear that your walk has extended too far for your
strength."
"It would have borne me farther with such a motive," she replied, still
trembling,--"to express my gratitude to my preserver."
"It was needless, Ellen, it was needless; for the deed brought with it its
own reward," exclaimed Fanshawe, with a vehemence that he could not
repress. "It was dangerous, for"--
Here he interrupted himself, and turned his face away.
"And wherefore was it dangerous?" inquired Ellen, laying her hand gently
on his arm; for he seemed about to leave her.
"Because you have a tender and generous heart, and I a weak one," he
replied.
"Not so," answered she, with animation. "Yours is a heart full of strength
and nobleness; and if it have a weakness"--
"You know well that it has, Ellen,--one that has swallowed up all its
strength," said Fanshawe.
Pages:
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187