"Yes, Miss. I have a sister, who is married and lives with her husband a few miles off. He is a market-gardener; and they have a nice little cottage. They will be delighted to do all they can for you."
"But how can I leave this house and remain absent for weeks without acquainting my benefactor Mr. Markham, and my poor old father? You forget, Marian—you forget that were I to steal away, and leave no trace behind me, it would break my father's heart."
"Then, Miss, you had better throw yourself at your father's feet, and tell him all."
"Never—never, Marian!" ejaculated Ellen, clasping her hands together, while her bosom heaved convulsively.
"Trust in Mr. Markham, Miss—let me break the truth to him?"
"Impossible, Marian! I should never dare to look him in the face again."
"And the person—the individual—the father of your child, Miss—" said the servant, hesitatingly.
"Mention not him—allude not to him," cried Ellen; then, after a pause, she added in a low and almost despairing tone, "No!—hope exists not there!"
"And yet, Miss," continued Marian, "you must make up your mind to something—and that soon. You cannot conceal your situation another fortnight without danger to yourself and the little unborn innocent. Besides, you have made no preparations, Miss; and if any sudden accident—"
"Ah! Marian, you remind me of my duty," interrupted Ellen. "I must not sacrifice the life of that being who has not asked me to give it existence—who is the innocent fruit of my shame,—I must not sacrifice its life to any selfish scruples of mine! Thank you, Marian—thank you! You have reminded me of my duty! come to me again to-morrow night, and I will tell you what step I have determined to take without delay!"