all probability assisted in making her the character she is; and as for her brother—­why, in charity, he shall know this strange tale,” she added, smiling; and briefly, but with affecting accuracy, she related all that had passed between her and Ellen on the evening of Edward’s return.  Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Howard listened in astonishment, for they knew not the quiet steadiness, the unwavering firmness of Ellen’s private character; they guessed not the deep remorse which had been her own, nor for how long it had guided and purified her actions.  Edward had concealed his face in his hands, his arms resting upon the table, for he felt in this tale of persevering effort and self-denial, in comparison with Ellen’s, as if his had sunk to nothing; the bright lustre of his sister’s character dimmed even to obscurity his own.

“And have you questioned Ellis? do you know in what manner she contrived so secretly to render her assistance?” demanded Mr. Hamilton, with much interest.

“I have,” replied his wife, “I did so that same night; for even Edward’s unexpected return could not banish his sister from my mind.  She told me, that at first she did all she could to turn Ellen from her purpose; but when she found her resolution was unalterably fixed by some means to earn sufficient to repay the cause of so much distress, she entered warmly into her plan; and, with the active assistance of Robert, procured her work from the baby-linen warehouses at Plymouth.  She first began with the plainest work, but that succeeded so well, finer was given to her.  In London she worked embroidery, purchasing the materials from her own pocket-money, and consequently largely increasing her hoard.  Spite of her ill-health, the first winter we spent in London, she perseveringly continued her irksome task, rising even in the coldest weather at six, the provident care of Ellis causing her fire to be lighted almost the earliest in the house.  Robert was the messenger employed to and fro, but no one knew her name or rank; for, devoted as we well know he is to Ellen, he took the trouble of changing his livery for plain clothes, whenever Ellis sent him on his mission.  Her secret has, indeed, been well preserved both from us and those who employed her.  Many, very many silent tears Ellis believes have fallen over my poor Ellen’s tedious task; many a struggle to adhere to her resolution, and not throw it aside in despair; and frequently, she told me, after a long, solitary evening, she has thrown her arms round Ellis’s neck, and wept from exhaustion, and the misery of hope deferred, for at first it did appear an endless labour; but she persevered unshrinkingly, combating her wishes to accompany me wherever Emmeline visited.”

“And it was this, then, that caused her determination to remain at home till next year,” observed Mr. Hamilton; “poor child, our harshness was no sweetener of her task.”

“It was not, indeed; the night of Emmeline’s introduction, Ellis says, she wept as if her heart would break, as if she could not keep her secret any longer; but she struggled with herself, and conquered; although many times, during my estrangement, she has longed to confess all, but the fear that I should forbid her continuing her task restrained her.”