away, the constant heavy depression of spirits,
and she grew impatient of the continual pain of
sympathy. If Miss Monro could have done
something to relieve Ellinor of her woe she
would have been less inclined to scold her for
giving way to it.

The time came when Miss Monro could act;
and, after that, there was no more irritation on
her part. When all hope of Ellinor's having
anything beyond the house and grounds of Ford
Bank was gone; when it was proved that of all
the legacies bequeathed by Mr. Wilkins not one
farthing could ever be paid; when it came to be
a question how far the beautiful pictures and
other objects of art in the house were not legally
the property of unsatisfied creditors, the state of
her father's affairs was communicated to Ellinor
as delicately as Mr. Ness knew how.

She was drooping over her work—she always
drooped now—and she left off sewing to listen
to him, leaning her head on the arm which
rested on the table. She did not speak when
he had ended his statement. She was silent for
whole minutes afterwards; he went on speaking
out of very agitation and awkwardness:

"It was all the rascal Dunster's doing, I've no
doubt," said he, trying to account for the entire
loss of Mr. Wilkins's fortune.

To his surprise she lifted up her white stony
face, and said slowly and faintly, but with almost
solemn calmness:

"Mr. Ness, you must never allow Mr. Dunster
to be blamed for this!"

"My dear Ellinor, there can be no doubt about it.
Your father himself always referred to the losses
he had sustained by Dunster's disappearance."

Ellinor covered her face with her hands. "God
forgive us all," she said, and relapsed into the
old unbearable silence. Mr. Ness had undertaken
to discuss her future plans with her, and he was
obliged to go on.

"Now, my dear child—I have known you since
you were quite a little girl, you know—we must
try not to give way to feeling"—he himself was
choking; she was quite quiet—"but think what
is to be done. You will have the rent of this
house; and we have a very good offer for it—a
tenant on lease of seven years at a hundred and
twenty pounds a year——"

"I will never let this house," said she, standing
up suddenly, and as if defying him.

"Not let Ford Bank! Why? I don't
understand it—I can't have been clear—Ellinor, the
rent of this house is all you will have to live on!"

"I can't help it, I can't leave this house. Oh
Mr. Ness, I can't leave this house."

"My dear child, you shall not be hurried—I
know how hardly all these things are coming
upon you (and I wish I had never seen Corbet,
with all my heart I do!)"—this was almost to
himself, but she must have heard it, for she quivered
all over—"but leave this house you must. You
must eat, and the rent of this house must pay
for your food; you must dress, and there is
nothing but the rent to clothe you. I will gladly
have you to stay at the parsonage as long as ever
you like; but, in fact, the negotiations with Mr.
Osbaldistone, the gentleman who offers to take
the house, are nearly completed——"

"It is my house!" said Ellinor, fiercely. "I
know it is settled on me."

"No, my dear. It is held in trust for you by
Sir Frank Holster and Mr. Johnson; you to
receive all moneys and benefits accruing from it"—
he spoke gently, for he almost thought her head
was turned—"but you remember you are not of
age, and Mr. Johnson and I have full power."

Ellinor sat down, helpless.

"Leave me," she said, at length. "You are
very kind, but you don't know all. I cannot
stand any more talking now," she added,
faintly.

Mr. Ness bent over her and kissed her
forehead, and withdrew without another word. He
went to Miss Monro.

"Well! and how did you find her?" was her
first inquiry, after the usual greetings had passed
between them. "It is really quite sad to see
how she gives way; I speak to her, and speak
to her, and tell her how she is neglecting all her
duties, and it does no good."

"She has had to bear a still further sorrow
to-day," said Mr. Ness. "On the part of Mr.
Johnson and myself I have a very painful duty
to perform to you as well as to her. Mr. Wilkins
has died insolvent. I grieve to say there is no
hope of your ever receiving any of your annuity!"

Miss Monro looked very blank. Many happy
little visions faded away in those few moments;
then she roused up and said, "I am but forty;
I have a good fifteen years of work in me left
yet, thank God. Insolvent! Do you mean he
has left no money?"

"Not a farthing. The creditors may be thankful
if they are fully paid."

"And Ellinor?"

"Ellinor will have the rent of this house,
which is hers by right of her mother's settlement,
to live on."

"How much will that be?"

"One hundred and twenty pounds."

Miss Monro's lips went into a form prepared
for whistling. Mr. Ness continued:

"She is at present unwilling enough to leave
this house, poor girl. It is but natural; but she
has no power in the matter, even were there any
other course open to her. I can only say how
glad, how honoured, I shall feel by as long a visit
as you and she can be prevailed upon to pay me
at the parsonage."

"Where is Mr. Corbet?" said Miss Monro.

"I do not know. After breaking off his
engagement he wrote me a long letter, explanatory,
as he called it; exculpatory, as I termed it. I
wrote back, curtly enough, saying that I regretted
the breaking off of an intercourse which had
always been very pleasant to me, but that he
must be aware that, with my intimacy with the
family at Ford Bank, it would be both awkward
and unpleasant to all parties if he and I remained