felt the arm he held tremble, Ethel was more composed than her once lover. She had pride and indignation to sustain her, while he was divided between embarrassment and an overpowering sensation of delight at meeting again. The face was intentionally averted, but there was the same sweet profile, and the long lash of the downcast eye lay golden on a cheek crimson with emotion. They reached the door before he summoned resolution to speak; but, just as the words rose from his heart to his lip, Ethel, by a sudden effort, caught Lady Marchmont's arm, and whispered, "For God's sake, let us go home!" Henrietta saw her uncontrollable emotion, and instantly complied with her wish: Courtenaye handed them to the carriage.
How long, that night, did the light touch of Ethel's little hand linger in his own! He felt anxious, but happy; he had seen her, and every thing seemed possible; she would, she must, forgive him. But Ethel sought her own room with a bitter and burning heart: she gave way to a burst of passionate tears.
