"Miss Monroe," continued Reginald, "believe me when I assure you that I feel deep compassion—deep interest, wherever I perceive grief—especially when that sorrow is secret. And, if my eyes have not deceived me, methinks I have read in your young heart the existence of some such secret sorrow. My aim is to console you; for the consolation which I can offer is not human—it is divine! I am but the humble instrument of the supernal Goodness; but God imparts solace through even the least worthy of his ministers."
"I thank you sincerely for your friendly intentions towards me," said Ellen, now recovering her presence of mind; "but, since my father is restored to health, I have little to vex me."
"And yet that self-reproach, Miss Monroe," persisted the rector, determined not to abandon the point to which he had so dexterously conducted the conversation,—"that self-accusation which escaped your lips——"
"Is a family secret, Mr. Tracy, which may not be revealed," interrupted Ellen firmly.
"I ask you not for your confidence, Miss Monroe: think not that I seek to pry into your affairs with an impertinent curiosity——"
"Once more, sir, I thank you for the kindness which prompts you thus to address me; but—pray, let us change the conversation."
These words were uttered in so decided a tone, that Reginald dared not persist in his attempt to thrust himself into the young lady's confidence.
An awkward silence ensued; and the rector was thinking how he should break it, when the door opened.
Almost at the same moment, a female voice was heard outside the room, saying, in tender playfulness, "Come to mamma! come to mamma!"
Then, immediately afterwards, Marian entered the apartment, bearing an infant in her arms.