endeavours," answered Ellinor, blushing as he kissed her hand; and,
hurrying up the walk, she disappeared within the house.

Walter walked for some moments about the alley in which Ellinor had left
him, but growing impatient, he at length wound through the overhanging
trees, and the house stood immediately before him,--the moonlight shining
full on the window-panes, and sleeping in quiet shadow over the green
turf in front. He approached yet nearer, and through one of the windows,
by a single light in the room, he saw Ellinor leaning over a couch, on
which a form reclined, that his heart, rather than his sight, told him
was his once-adored Madeline. He stopped, and his breath heaved thick;--
he thought of their common home at Grassdale--of the old Manor-house--of
the little parlour with the woodbine at its casement--of the group
within, once so happy and light-hearted, of which he had formerly made
the one most buoyant, and not least-loved. And now this strange--this
desolate house--himself estranged from all once regarding him,--(and
those broken-hearted,)--this night ushering what a morrow!--he groaned
almost aloud, and retreated once more into the shadow of the trees. In a
few minutes the door at the right of the building opened, and Ellinor
came forth with a quick step.

"Come in, dear Walter," said she; "Madeline has consented to see you--
nay, when I told her you were here, and desired an interview, she paused
but for one instant, and then begged me to admit you."

"God bless her!" said poor Walter, drawing his hand across his eyes, and
following Ellinor to the door.

"You will find her greatly changed!" whispered Ellinor, as they gained
the outer hall; "be prepared!"