too late, that nothing in marriage can supply the want of affection: but, Ethel, you love him!"
"I did!" replied the other, coldly.
"Nay, you do!" continued the countess. "Forgive me, dearest, if I seem to say more than even our old friendship would warrant; but do let me implore you, not from any mistaken pride—nay," seeing Ethel about to speak, "I will not be interrupted—do not, from mistaken pride, throw your happiness away from you. Think what it is to go through life loving, and beloved; to be understood, appreciated, cared for; the thousand slight things of daily life made delicious by a quiet, yet well understood sympathy; your thoughts shared, your sorrows soothed; a motive for every action, for you know that their object is the happiness of another."
"Mr. Courtenaye has already shewed how much he cared for that happiness," returned Ethel, bitterly.
"Yet you love him!" said Henrietta. "True, his name passes your lips; if you
