Lina could not rest. She went to her room, but it seemed so changed, so unlike her old home, that a terror, that was almost insanity, fell upon her. The rich blue curtains, to her excited mind, looked sombre against their underwaves of frost-like lace, and her bed, with its snowy canopy, now overclouded with damask, had a deadly whiteness about it, that made her shrink within herself, as if some leprosy had fallen upon her, which forbade her ever again to approach a thing so pure.

Lina crept into this room sad and disheartened; looking wearily around, she cowered down on the carpet in the farthest corner, and sat watching the door, as if she expected some enemy to come in and drive her forth. At the least sound in the hall she would start and shrink back with a moan upon her white lips, but she shed no tears, and her look was rather one of affright than of the intense grief which had overpowered her while in the presence of General Harrington.At that moment there was a hurried tread upon the staircase. Every pulse in Lina's heart throbbed wildly, and she sat leaning eagerly forward with a half-expectant, half-frightened air, as the steps paused before her door. A low, quick knock caused her to start from the floor. She looked wildly round, as if seeking some means of escape, then sunk against the wall, while her whole frame trembled with agitation. The knock was repeated, and she covered her face with her hands, uttering a low, shuddering moan. A third time that impatient summons shook her form as with a convulsion, and when a voice, whose lightest tone possessed the power to move her inmost soul, reached her ear in an eager whisper, she rose again and stood upright, transfixed by that voice, which had never before met her ear without filling her whole being with gentle pleasure.

"Lina—Lina—are you there?"

It was Ralph who spoke. Lina gasped for breath and wrung her hands desperately, like one who entreats for mercy, and feels that it is all in vain.

"Lina, answer me—are you there?"

"I am here," she replied, in a low, unnatural tone.

"Open the door, Lina—I want to speak to you."

"Ralph, I cannot!"

"Cannot! What ails you, Lina? Do open the door. Let me speak to you for a moment."

She staggered feebly to the door, then with a quick motion, the hurried resolve of which was strangely at variance with her previous hesitation, flung it open, and stood before the young man.

"Why, Lina, have you forgotten your promise?" he began eagerly; then, checked himself, as he raised his eyes to her face, and marked the wildness of her glance, and ghastly pallor of her cheek. "Lina, what is the matter? Are you ill? Tell me, Lina, what ails you?" He took her hands in his, with a manner in which the impetuosity of a youthful lover, and the kind, protecting air of a brother, were strangely mingled.

"Answer me, Lina, my own Lina."

But Lina had no words; when her eyes met his, the tears which during her lonely vigil had refused to flow, burst forth, and she buried her head in her hands, sobbing like a frightened child. Ralph folded his arms about her, and drew her back into the chamber, gathering her closely to his heart, as if to reassure her by his protecting presence. He did not question her again for several moments, but forcing her head gently down on his shoulder, he strove to soothe her with whispered words, until she gathered strength to check her tears, and drew herself from him, striving all the time to appear more composed.

"Now tell me, Lina, what does this mean?"

She shook her head sadly, murmuring:

"Nothing, Ralph, nothing."

"Do not trifle with me, Lina. Something must have occurred to cause this agitation. Can you not trust me?"

"There is nothing the matter! I was ill, and—and cried without knowing why."

"You cannot deceive me with an excuse like that. Has any one hurt your feelings! do tell me what has happened."

But Lina only shook her head, and choked back the despair which rose to her lips. He would have taken her in his arms again, but the movement and the touch of his hand roused her to the fearful consciousness that she had no longer a right to seek consolation in his companionship. She broke away, terrified and oppressed, with a feeling of guilt at her momentary forgetfulness.

"Leave me, Ralph, I wish—I need to be alone."

"You wish—you need to be alone! This is very strange, Lina! Will you give me no explanation? Have I offended you—tell me what I can have done? You know that I would rather die ten thousand deaths than cause you a moment's pain.

""Do not speak so, Ralph; do not torture me by such fears. You have never wounded me by word or look—you have always been kind and generous."

"Thank you! thank you! Then tell me what pains you! Darling, darling, you cannot know how I suffer to see you in this state. I must have an explanation. Lina, you have no right to refuse it."

"I can give none! Ralph, leave me, I must be alone. Another time I may be able to converse, but now"—she broke off abruptly, wringing her hands in impotent despair, while the great tears fell over them, like the last heavy drops of a spent shower. "Leave me, Ralph, leave me!" she exclaimed, with a gesture of insane agony.

"I cannot understand this! Can this be Lina—my own dear little Lina, always so confiding and truthful? Since my earliest recollection have you not known my every thought and wish—been as familiar with my heart as you were with your own? This is the first time that the slightest shadow has fallen upon your mind against me, yet there you stand, separated from me by some fearful sorrow, to which I can obtain no clue."

"Do not speak so, Ralph! I repeat that nothing troubles me much! Will you not believe me?"

"I never doubted your word before, Lina; but now—forgive me—I feel that you are concealing something terrible from me. When I left you, this morning, you promised to walk with me, and I hurried here the moment I was free, longing to take a ramble over the hills—will you not go?"

"Not to-day. I cannot—I am ill."

"Do not seek to excuse yourself! Say at once that you do not choose to go."

"You misunderstand me, Ralph, indeed you do."

"Forgive me, Lina; I am so maddened by the sight of your tears, that I scarcely know what I am saying. Only confide in me—can you not trust me, your lover, your betrothed?"

"God help me!" broke from Lina's white lips, but the exclamation was unheeded by the young man in his agitation.

"Have you a desire to hide anything from me—can you love, when you refuse to trust me."

"Ralph, leave me! If you have any mercy, go away, and let me be alone." In her frenzy she threw up her arms with a gesture which seemed to him almost one of repulsion. He looked at her for a moment, his heart bursting with the first revelation of its woe, then muttering—

"Lina, has it come to this?" he sprang from the room, and the sound of his flying footsteps on the stair recalled her to a consciousness of what had befallen her.

She strove to utter his name, but it died husky and low in her parched throat. She must fly—anywhere to be out in the air, for the atmosphere of that close chamber seemed stifling her. She caught up a shawl which lay on a table, and rushed from the room and from the house. A sudden thought, which seemed instinct rather than reason, had made her start thus madly away to search for old Ben, the honest protector of her childhood, hoping that from him she could gather some explanation of the secret that seemed crushing the life from her frame.