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 ment, your heart never asked itself the worth of mine, till already all its own pulsations beat for another object?"

Harleigh tried to smile, tried to rally, tried to divert the question; all in vain; Elinor became but more urgent, and more disordered. "O Harleigh!" she cried, "is it too much to ask this one mark of your confidence, for a creature who has cast her whole destiny at your feet? Speak!—if you would not devote me to distraction! Speak!—if you would not consign me to immediate delirium!"

"And what," cried he, trembling at her vehemence, "would you have me say?"

"That it is not Elinor whom you despise—but another whom you love."

"Elinor! are you mad?"

"No, Harleigh, no!—but I am wild with anguish to dive into the full depth of my disgrace; to learn whether it were inevitable, from the very nature of things,—from personal antipathy,