But we shall not dwell upon this scene:—we shall leave our readers to picture to themselves the delight of Katherine at beholding him whom she had long believed to be her cousin, and who was ever ready to catch the stripes that were destined for her,—her sorrow when she heard of the death of the hump-back's father,—and the happiness experienced by Gibbet himself at passing an evening in the society of the inmates of Markham Place.
Accident enabled him to obtain a few moments' conversation aside with Ellen; and to her he broke in as few words but in as delicate a manner as possible, the sad news which he had to communicate relative to Greenwood.
The young lady suppressed her grief as well as she could; but she shortly afterwards pleaded indisposition and retired early to her room—there to ponder and weep, without fear of interruption, over the fallen fortunes of her husband!
On the following morning, Gibbet—true to his resolve, which our hero no longer attempted to shake—took his departure from Markham Place, laden with the presents which had been forced upon him, and followed by the kindest wishes of those good friends whom he left behind.
CHAPTER CCLVI.
ELIZA SYDNEY AND ELLEN.—THE HOSPITAL.
Eliza Sydney had just sate down to breakfast, when a cab drove hastily up to the door of the villa, and Ellen alighted from the vehicle.
The moment she entered the parlour, Eliza advanced to meet her, saying, "My dearest friend, I can divine the cause of this early visit;—and, indeed, had you not come to me, it was my intention to have called upon you without delay."
Ellen heard these remarks with unfeigned surprise.
"Sit down, and compose yourself," continued Eliza, "while I explain to you certain matters which it is now proper that you should know."
"Heaven grant that you have no evil tidings to communicate!" exclaimed Ellen, taking a chair near her friend, upon whose countenance she turned a look of mingled curiosity and suspense.