She awoke, considerably refreshed, at about seven o'clock in the morning.
The faithful Marian was still watching by her side, and had prepared her some refreshment, of which Ellen partook.
The young mother then asked for writing materials; and, in spite of the remonstrances of Marian, sate up in her bed, and wrote a letter.
When she had sealed and addressed it, she spoke in the following manner:
"Marian, I have now one favour to ask you. You have already given me such proofs of friendship and fidelity, that I need not implore you to observe the strictest secrecy with respect to the request that I am about to make. At the same time, I shall feel more happy if you will promise me, that under any circumstances—whether my shame remain concealed, or not—you will never disclose, without my consent, the name of the person to whom this letter is addressed, and to whom you must carry it as speedily as possible."
"You know, Miss, that I will do any thing I can to make you happy. Your secret is safe in my keeping."
"Thank you, Marian! My father would curse me—Mr. Markham would scorn me, did they know that I held communication with this man;"—and she showed the address upon the letter to Marian.
"Mr. Greenwood!" exclaimed the servant. "Ah! now I recollect—Whittingham has told me that he is the person who ruined your poor father, and robbed Mr. Markham of nearly all his property."
"And yet, Marian," said Ellen, "that man—that same Mr. Greenwood, who reduced my poor father to beggary, and plundered Mr. Markham—that very same individual is the father of my child!"
"Ah! Miss, now I understand how impossible it was for you to reveal your condition to your father, or to Mr. Markham. The blow would have been too severe upon both!"