Ellinor could not guess who had written it by any outward sign; but the moment she saw the name "Herbert Livingstone," the meaning of the letter flashed upon her and she coloured all over.

She put the letter away, unread, for a few minutes, and then made some excuse for leaving the room and going upstairs.

When safe in her bed-chamber, she read the young man's eager words with a sense of self-reproach.

How must she, engaged to one man, have been behaving to another, if this was the result of a single evening's interview?
The self-reproach was unjustly bestowed; but with that we have nothing to do.

She made herself very miserable; and at last went down with a heavy heart to go on with Dante, and rummage up words in the dictionary.