CHAPTER VII.
The Captain must have known what the letter contained, as he stood close by Ella's side, apparently ready to support her, as in the theatre; but this time she betrayed no weakness. She looked silently down at the icy words of farewell with which her husband freed himself from wife and child. With what haste had he seized the excuse which her father's harshness and her own words offered him; with what relief had he shaken off the irksome bonds! This blow did not fall unexpectedly now. Since that last interview she knew her fate.
"He is gone already?" asked she, without raising her eyes from the letter, which she still held in her hand.
"An hour ago."
"And with her?"
Hugo was silent; he could not say "No" to this question. Ella rose, apparently calm, but she leaned heavily on the boy's bed.
"I knew it. And now--leave me alone, I implore you!"
The Captain hesitated. "I came, also, to bid you adieu," replied he. "My departure was decided without this, and now, in my brother's absence, nothing keeps me. I shall make no attempt to remove my uncle's absurd prejudice against me, but I should like to take a word of farewell from you, Ella, away with me. Will you refuse it me?"
The young woman raised her eyes slowly; they met his, and as if following an involuntary impulse, held out both hands to him--
"I thank you, Hugo, farewell!"