“I spoke not for myself,” said Elinor, gently.  “Is not the love that has sacrificed a fortune for my sake beyond all price?  But the thought of ruining the man I love overwhelms me with despair.”

“Patience, my dear girl—­time will remedy the evil.  I am going to work hard to win a fortune.  In a few years I shall return from India, a rich man.”

“India!”

“It is the only spot on the earth where fortunes can be made in a few years.”

“But the dreadful climate—­the many chances against you—­”

“I will brave all for your dear sake.  Only promise to be true to me, Elinor; never whilst I live, to wed another.”

The promise was given, and sealed upon her lips, and the lovers parted with many sighs and tears; promising, by everything most holy and dear to them, to remain constant to each other.  Such vows are too often traced in sand, to be washed out by the returning tide of passion or interest:  sometimes by an unfortunate combination of untoward circumstances, over which the poor lover cannot exercise the least control.  We shall see how Algernon and his Elinor kept their vows of eternal fidelity.

Mark Hurdlestone heard of his brother’s departure and safe arrival in India with unspeakable satisfaction.  With cautious steps he pursued the path suggested to him by the implacable spirit of revenge.  Before many months had elapsed, the death of Mrs. Hurdlestone afforded him an opportunity of obtaining a fresh introduction to Miss Wildegrave.  At his mother’s particular request, Mrs. Wildegrave and her daughter had visited her frequently during her dying illness; and as it exactly suited his own purpose, Mark offered no objection, but did all in his power to meet his mother’s wishes.  The dying woman felt an intense desire to see the person for whom her favorite son had sacrificed so much, and she was so pleased with his choice, that she forgave her all the trouble she had occasioned, kept her constantly near her person during her last illness, and finally expired in her arms.

To Elinor she owed much of the attention she received at that time from her stern unloving son.  He treated her with a degree of tenderness quite unusual to him, anticipated all her comforts, and seldom left her apartment.  “They may call the Squire a harsh cruel man,” said Elinor to her mother, “but I must say, that I never saw a kinder or a better son.”

After the funeral, Mark called upon Mrs. Wildegrave, to deliver into her hands a few memorials of his mother’s regard, to which he added some handsome ornaments for Elinor out of his own purse, and he expressed in the warmest terms his grateful thanks for their attention and kindness to the deceased.  He displayed so much feeling on this melancholy occasion, and spoke with such affection and respect of his departed parent, that it made a deep impression upon Mrs. Wildegrave and her daughter.