The servant then retired; and Ellen remained alone—alone with the most desolating, heart-breaking reflections.
At length her ideas produced a mental agony which was beyond endurance. She rose from her chair, and advanced towards the window, against the cold glass of which she leant her brow—her burning brow, to cool it. The moon shone brightly, and edged the clouds of night with silver. The eyes of the wretched girl wandered over the landscape, the outlines of which were strongly marked beneath the lustre of the moon; and amongst other objects, she caught sight of the small lake at a little distance. It shone like a pool of quicksilver, and seemed to woo her to its bosom.
Upon that lake her eyes rested long and wistfully; and again the tempter stood behind her, and urged her to seek repose beneath that shining surface.
She asked herself for what she had to live? She did not seek to combat the arguments of the secret tempter; but she collected into one focus all her sorrows; and at length the contemplation of that mass of misery strengthened the deep anxiety which she felt to escape from this world for ever.
And all the while she kept her eyes fixed upon the lake that seemed sleeping beneath the moonlight which kissed its bosom.
But her poor father! and the babe that she bore in her breast! Oh! no—she dared not die! Her suicide would not comprise one death only;—but it would be the death of a second, and the death of a third,—the death of her father, and the death of her still unborn child!
She turned away from the window, and hastened to seek her couch. But slumber did not visit her eyes. She lay pondering on the best course for her to pursue; but the more she reflected upon her condition, the farther off did she seem to wander from any settled point. At length she sank into an uneasy sleep; and her grief pursued her in her dreams.
She rose late; and when she descended to the breakfast-room she learnt that Richard Markham was about to depart immediately for the Continent. Whittingham was busily occupied in packing his master's baggage in the hall; and Holford had been despatched into town to order a post-chaise.
Markham explained this sudden movement on his part by placing a letter in Ellen's hand, saying at the same time, "This is from a man who has been a friend to me: I cannot hesitate a moment to obey his summons."
Ellen cast her eyes over the letter and read as follows:—