"I thought that was what I ought to say."
"How foolish you are, Cle.! Well?"
"Well, in that case, I was to write. Shall I write?"
She did not write.
And from this time the existence of Ella was changed.
She loved, with all the fervor and energy of her nature; and life took at once a new color. True love is of the infinite. None can have deeply loved—when or how in other respects it may have been—but they have entered into the unseen world; have breathed a new breath of life; have tasted of the true existence.
What is often called love, may do nothing of all this—but I am speaking of true love.
Lionel seemed at that time scarcely worthy of the passion he had inspired. Yet he had many excellent qualities. He was warm-hearted, generous to excess, had good parts, a brilliant way of talking, and was a favorite with all the world.
He had not the splendid gifts which nature had bestowed upon Julian Winstanley. By the side of her father, even in the eyes of Ella, the bright halo which surrounded her lover would seem somewhat to pale. The young man even appeared to feel this, in some degree, himself. He always, yet with a certain grace, took the second place, when in her father's presence. Ella loved her father, and seemed to like that it should be so.
"Oh, my sister! oh, my friend! what—what shall we do? Oh, misery! misery! what is to become of us all?"