Ellen sobbed as if her heart would break as Richard uttered these words.
There was something fearfully poignant and convulsive in that young lady's grief.
But suddenly rousing herself, she rushed from the room; and, returning in a few moments with her child, she presented it to Markham, saying "Embrace him, Richard, before you depart;—embrace him—for he bears your Christian name!"
Our hero received the innocent infant in his arms, and kissed it tenderly.
No pen can depict the expression of pleasure—of radiant joy,—joy shining out from amidst her tears,—with which Ellen contemplated that proof of affection towards her babe.
"Thank you, Richard—thank you, my brother," she exclaimed, as she received back her child.
The old butler and Mr. Monroe were not callous to the touching nature of that scene.
"I have now no more to say," observed Richard. "I am about to retire to the library for a short time. At five o'clock the post-chaise will be here. Whittingham, my faithful friend, you will see that all my necessaries be carefully packed."
Markham then withdrew to his study.
There he wrote a few letters upon matters of business.