hand; she looked upon his countenance. All a mother's heart spoke in those looks. Was there a hope yet left for her unhappy niece? "Oh, if there yet be hope, speak, Lord Avondale; spare the feelings of one who never injured you; look in that face and have mercy, for in it there is all the bitterness of despair." He sought for expressions that might soften the pang—he wished to give her hope; but too much agitated himself to know what he then said: "I am resolved—I am going immediately," he said, and passed her by in haste. He saw not the effect of his words—he heard not the smothered shriek of a heart-broken parent.
As he rushed forward, he met the duke, who in one moment marked, in the altered manner of Lord Avondale—the perfect calm—the chilling proud reserve he had assumed, that there was no hope of reconciliation. He offered him his hand: he was himself much moved.
