ill had, however, for months subjected her feelings to a discipline too severe to be wholly overcome by them now. Her features became cold and calm; and there was a slight touch of haughtiness in her manner, as she said,—
"May I be permitted to ask the cause why Mrs. Courtenaye honours me with a visit?"
"Because the happiness of my only child is in your hands—because," exclaimed she, "I have recently stood by the bed that was every hour expected to be that of death, and, during the delirium of fever, yours was the only name upon Norbourne's lips."
"Mrs. Courtenaye," replied Ethel, rising, "it is useless to prolong an interview which can only be humiliating and painful to both."
"Listen to me," cried Mrs. Courtenaye, catching her hand, and detaining her.
"Nay," replied her companion: "I can understand and pity your feelings; but you must, also, respect mine. I entreat you not to enter on a subject which inflicts on me—I will tell you frankly—inflicts on me a
