No sound broke the stillness when that sad letter had been perused.  Mr. Hamilton had bowed his head upon his hands, for he could not speak of comfort; the long years of domestic bliss which had been his portion, made him feel bitterly the trial which the heart of his son was doomed to endure.  And how was he to aid?  Could he seek Greville, and condescend to use persuasions, arguments to force from him his consent?  With clenched hand and knitted brow Percy stood, his thoughts forcibly drawn from the sufferers by the bitter indignation he felt towards the heartless, cruel man who had occasioned all.  Mrs. Hamilton could think only of her son, of Mary, whom she had so long loved as her own child, and the longing to behold her once again, to speak the words of soothing and of love, with which her heart felt bursting.  Emmeline could only weep, that such should be the fate of one whom from her childhood she had loved, and whom she had lately anticipated with so much delight receiving as a sister.  For some minutes Ellen sat in deep and painful thought, then starting up, she flew to the side of her uncle, and clasping his hand, entreated—­

“Go to Paris, my dear uncle; go yourself, and see this relentless man; speak with him, know why he has commanded Mary to receive this Dupont as her husband; perhaps you may render Herbert’s claims as valuable in his eyes.  He has no cause of strife with you; he will hear you, I know he will; his fury was called forth because he thought Herbert stood in the way of his wishes.  Prove to him the happiness, the life of his child, of yours, depend on their union.  He cannot, he will not refuse to hear you.  Oh, do not hesitate, go to him, my dear uncle; all may not be so desperate as at this distance we may fancy.”

“My father may as well plead to the hard flint as to Alfred Greville’s feelings,” muttered Percy.  “Ellen, you know not what you ask; would you have my father debase himself to a wretch like that?”

“’Tis Mr. Greville who will be debased, and not my uncle, Percy.  The world might think him humbled to plead to such a man, but they would think falsely; he is raised above the cringing crowd, who from false pride would condemn the child of virtue to misery and death, because they would not bear with the vices of the parent.  Were Mary, were Mrs. Greville in any point otherwise than they are, I would not thus plead, for there would be no necessity.  She could not be so dear to Herbert.  I do not ask my uncle to humble himself; I ask him but to reason with Mr. Greville, to convince him of his error.”

“What says my Herbert?” demanded Mr. Hamilton, gazing with astonishment on his niece’s animated features, and almost wondering at her unwonted eloquence.

“That she has spoken well, and may God in Heaven bless her for the thought!” exclaimed Herbert, who had roused himself to listen to her earnest words, and now, with sudden energy, sprung up.  “Father, let us go.  Ellen has spoken justly; he will listen to you, he will not hear my entreaties unmoved.  I have never offended him; he is, indeed, a harsh and cruel man, one whom I would gladly shun, but the father of Mary.  Oh, let us seek him, for her sake we will plead; he will wake from his dream, he will know he has been in error.  Oh, my father, let us go.  She may yet be saved to live and bless me.”