But Ellen wept not; pale as Herbert, her features expressed suffering almost as keen as his, and yet she dared not do as her heart desired, fly to his side and speak the words that love dictated.

What was her voice to him?
_she_ had no power to soothe.
Deep and varied emotions passed rapidly over Mr.Hamilton's countenance as he read the letter which had caused this misery.

Percy could trace upon his features pity, sorrow, scorn, indignation, almost loathing, follow one another rapidly and powerfully, and even more violently did those emotions agitate him when the truth was known.
"It was an old tale, and often told, but that took not from its bitterness," Mary wrote, from a bed of suffering such as she had never before endured; for weeks she had been insensible to thought or action, but she had resolved no one but herself should inform her Herbert of all that had transpired, no hand but her own should trace her despairing words.

They had lived, as we know, calmly at Paris, so peaceably, that Mrs.Greville had indulged in brighter hopes for the future than had ever before engrossed her.

Mr.Greville spent much of his time from home, accompanying, however, his wife and daughter to their evening amusements, and always remained present when they received company in return.