Erminie, seated in her resting-chair in the privacy of her own room, hoped that the visitor might be no one whom she should be obliged to see. And she waited for the appearance of the servant to announce the name of the new comer.
But fifteen or twenty minutes passed and no servant appeared, though the carriage still remained standing before the door.
“It is some one for Elfie,” said Erminie to herself, as she sank in her chair to take her ease.
But at that moment she heard footsteps approaching the chamber, and the next instant the door was thrown open by Elfie, who, pale and faint, tottered into the chamber and sank into the nearest seat.
“Elfie! Elfie, my dear! in the name of mercy, what has happened?” exclaimed Erminie, starting up in alarm, for the least terrible of her conjectures was that some serious accident had occurred to her own brother or to Elfie’s father.
“Noth—nothing has happened! Nothing bad, I mean! All good! Oh, Erminie! how shall I tell you!” gasped Elfie, bursting into a passion of hysterical tears and sobs.
The excess of joy weeps; the excess of anguish laughs.
“What? what is this? Who came in the carriage?” breathlessly gasped Erminie, turning pale and cold, yet not with fear!
“Oh, Erminie, guess! try to guess! I am afraid to tell you! Who would you rather see of all the world?” said Elfie, trembling.
Torrents of fire and of ice alternately seemed to sweep through the system of the delicate girl, as the blood rushed to her head and receded to her heart.