When she heard of Andrew’s mishap in being desperately wounded, and thrown from the bridge by some unknown man, Ellen wept bitterly; for in her heart she knew the villain must and could be none other than the cold-hearted, treacherous, Colonel Blood.
But when her foster sister told her also that Andrew, her old and faithful lover, was now a confirmed lunatic, she sank into a chair and sobbed aloud.
“Nay, do not weep, Ellen!” said her father, the old miller, who now entered the apartment, and stood before the two girls with a pale face. “Nay, do not weep for him, Ellen, but weep for me—for your honor and mine is gone forever.”
“Gone!” said Ellen, rising with a flushed face. “Nay, father, say not so! Your daughter is as spotless as on the night when she was cruelly carried away by a ruthless villain!”
“The world will not believe it, Ellen; but if I thought for a moment you had disgraced me and mine, I would rather see you dead at my feet.”
Nelly wept and sobbed by turns; but the cruel words of her father brought the hot blood to her fair cheeks, and she vindicated herself most eloquently from the foul aspersions of all idle, gossipping village scandal.
What at first, then, had been a stormy meeting between her father and herself (see cut in No. 18), closed as such meetings always should close between parents and children. Ellen threw herself into her father’s arms, and, with beating heart, told him all her trials and troubles.
“God bless you, child, God bless you!” said the old miller, as he tenderly kissed her and left the room.
Two days after this meeting of father and daughter, Ellen, accompanied by two female friends, strolled through the woods of Darlington, in order to call upon and console Andrew, who was reported to be dying raving mad.
They had enjoyed their walk, and were much flushed with exercise, when they were startled by a strange sight (see cut in No. 21).