CHAPTER XIV.
"And how the knight, with tender fire,
To paint his faithful passion strove."
Lay of the Last Minstrel.
"Fare thee well! thus disunited,
Torn from every nearer tie,
Seared in heart, and lone, and blighted,
More than this I scarce can die."—Byron.
On the afternoon following her arrival at home, Ellen Ravensworth was sitting alone in her drawing-room, when Lord Wentworth was announced. As he entered, unable to restrain her natural and full feelings, the young girl flew to meet him, as though she welcomed a brother.
"How glad I am to see you looking so well, and so like yourself, Ellen!" said the Earl, as he took both her hands in his own; "come let me look at you, little unbeliever! I could not have told you had been ill! And how came you to doubt my pledge, Ellen, or think my ring spoke falsehood?"
As he spoke the Earl still held her hands, and the lovers gazed on each other with an expression of unspeakable delight.
"Oh welcome, welcome, Lord Wentworth! How happy I am to meet you again. Come, sit down by me on the sofa. I have so much to tell you."
"First answer my question," said the Earl, as he seated himself beside her; "tell me, Ellen, how came you to doubt my ring,—how to doubt a peer's word?"
"Oh ask me not," said Ellen, smiling; "I cannot tell why. I know not how I could doubt you one moment; but it is past now, and you forgive me; see, I wear your ring on my hand still!"
"Forgive you, dearest! nay, I should ask your forgiveness,—at least you have proved yourself a dear, faithful girl. Ah! Ellen, you little know how pained I was to hear you were so ill, and then I did not know the cause. Oh! that I could find the author of that villainous paragraph! How you must have suffered!"