A DARK NIGHT'S WORK.

BY THE AUTHORESS OF "MARY BARTON."

CHAPTER X.

MR. CORBET was so well known at the
parsonage by the two old servants, that he had
no difficulty, on reaching it, after his
departure from Ford Bank, in having the spare
bed-chamber made ready for him, late as it was,
and in the absence of the master, who had
taken a little holiday now that Lent and Easter
were over, for the purpose of fishing. While his
room was getting ready, Ralph sent for his
clothes, and by the same messenger he
despatched the little note to Ellinor. But there
was the letter he had promised her in it still to
be written; and it was almost his night's employment
to say enough yet not too much; for, as he
expressed it to himself, he was half way over the
stream, and it would be folly to turn back, for he
had given nearly as much pain both to himself
and Ellinor by this time as he should do by
making the separation final. Besides, after Mr.
Wilkins's speeches that evening—but he was
candid enough to acknowledge that, bad and
offensive as they had been, if they had stood alone
they might have been condoned.

His letter ran as follows:

"DEAREST ELLINOR, for dearest you are, and
I think will ever be, my judgment has consented
to a step which is giving me great pain, greater
than you will readily believe. I am convinced
that it is better that we should part; for
circumstances have occurred since we formed our
engagement which, although I am unaware of their
exact nature, I can see weigh heavily upon you,
and have materially affected your father's
behaviour. Nay, I think, after to-night, I may
almost say have entirely altered his feelings
towards me. What these circumstances are I am
ignorant, any further than that I know from your
own admission that they may lead to some future
disgrace. Now, it may be my fault, it may be in
my temperament, to be anxious, above all things
earthly, to obtain and possess a high reputation.
I can only say that it is so, and leave you to blame
me for my weakness as much as you like. But
anything that might come in between me and
this object would, I own, be ill tolerated by me;
the very dread of such an obstacle intervening
would paralyse me. I should become irritable,
and, deep as my affection is, and always must be,
towards you, I could not promise you a happy,
peaceful life. I should be perpetually haunted by
the idea of what might happen in the way of
discovery and shame. I am the more convinced of
this, from my observation of your father's altered
character—an alteration which I trace back to
the time when I conjecture that the secret affairs
took place to which you have alluded. In short,
it is for your sake, my dear Ellinor, even more
than for my own, that I feel compelled to affix a
final meaning to the words which your father
addressed to me last night, when he desired me to
leave his house for ever. God bless you, my
Ellinor, for the last time my Ellinor. Try to
forget as soon as you can the unfortunate tie
which has bound you for a time to one so
unsuitable—I believe I ought to say so unworthy
of you—as—RALPH CORBET."

Ellinor was making breakfast when this letter
was given her. According to the wont of the
servants of the respective households of the
parsonage and Ford Bank, the man asked if there
was any answer. It was only custom; for he
had not been desired to do so. Ellinor went to
the window to read her letter; the man waiting
all the time respectfully for her reply. She went
to the writing-table, and wrote:

"It is all right—quite right. I ought to have
thought of it all last August. I do not think
you will forget me easily, but I entreat you never
at any future time to blame yourself. I hope
you will be happy and successful. I suppose I
must never write to you again; but I shall
always pray for you. Papa was very sorry last
night for having spoken angrily to you. You
must forgive him—there is great need for
forgiveness in this world.—ELLINOR."

She kept putting down thought after thought,
just to prolong the last pleasure of writing to him.
She sealed the note and gave it to the man. Then
she sat down and waited for Miss Monro, who had
gone to bed on the previous night without awaiting
Ellinor's return from the dining-room.

"I am late, my dear," said Miss Monro, on
coming down, "but I have a bad headache, and
I knew you had a pleasant companion." Then,
looking round, she perceived Ralph's absence.