"I am quite well.
This kindness distracts me--I cannot bear it--I come to you on such an errand!" "Errand! To me!" "How shall I tell you! Oh! How shall I tell you!" A new idea now darted into Catherine's mind, and turning as pale as her friend, she exclaimed, "'Tis a messenger from Woodston!" "You are mistaken, indeed," returned Eleanor, looking at her most compassionately; "it is no one from Woodston.

It is my father himself." Her voice faltered, and her eyes were turned to the ground as she mentioned his name.

His unlooked-for return was enough in itself to make Catherine's heart sink, and for a few moments she hardly supposed there were anything worse to be told.

She said nothing; and Eleanor, endeavouring to collect herself and speak with firmness, but with eyes still cast down, soon went on.

"You are too good, I am sure, to think the worse of me for the part I am obliged to perform.