misconstrued what I said to Philip in the drawing-room. I do not altogether understand you even now, and I know you do not understand me. I can only pray that some day it may be different. Forgive the pain I have--oh, so unintentionally--caused you. If Ermine were here I would beg her to write instead of me--she would know better what to say, and I think you trust her. I shall know no peace till I hear that you are safe with your aunt. I have been almost overwhelmed these last few days and I scarcely know what I write. Papa is better, and I have not allowed him to blame you. I have made him see it has been my fault. Let me hear you are with Mrs Burton.
"Your affectionate sister,--
"Madelene."
Ella kept her eyes fixed on the paper for some time after she had readit; she did not want her aunt to see the tears, which rose unbidden andwhich with a strong effort she repressed again. When she looked up itwas with a calm, almost impassive expression.
"I will go back with you, aunt Phillis," she said. "I do not wish tomake an _expose_ of our family affairs by attempting to defy my father.I will go back with you in the meantime."
"My darling!" Mrs Burton exclaimed. "I knew you would not beobstinate. And you will see--Mr Burton will be delighted to have youwith us. You must feel you are really coming _home_, my own dearchild."
"Poor aunty," said Ella half affectionately, half patronisingly. Butshe smiled graciously enough, and Mrs Burton was satisfied.
Ella contrived to say a word or two in private to Mrs Ward before sheleft. She thanked her for her kindness and added,--
"You must not think I have given up my plan, Mrs Ward. I had to givein in the meantime, but when I am of age, or sooner perhaps, you willprobably hear of me again."
The matron smiled.
"I shall always be pleased to hear of you, Miss St Quentin," sheanswered. "But not as wanting to be a governess, I hope. Try to behappy and useful at home. There is no place like it--except in _very_exceptional circumstances. And then there are so many women who mustwork and find it very difficult to do so. I am always sorry to seetheir ranks increased unnecessarily."
Ella seemed rather struck by this remark.
"I had never thought of it that way," she said. It was not till heraunt and she were ensconsed in a comfortable railway carriage bythemselves that she ventured upon the question she had been all alongburning to ask.
"Aunt Phillis," she began, "have you nothing more to tell me? Did--didMadelene's messenger say nothing more?"
"What do you mean, my dear?" said Mrs Burton with manifest uneasiness.
"I am almost sure I know who the messenger was," Ella went on, "andunder the circumstances it was, I think, really kind. But you don'twant to tell me, so I won't ask. Only--did this mysterious person nottell you any news--anything about Ermine?"
Mrs Burton looked up with evident relief. This was plainly a safetack.
"About Ermine?" she said with perfect candour; "no, my dear, nothing atall--except--yes, I think--that was said--that she is coming homeimmediately; she must indeed be home already, I fancy."
"And that was all?"
"Yes, all, I assure you. What news did you expect?"
"I can't tell you," Ella replied. "We shall be hearing it before longno doubt."
Then she relapsed into silence, and Mrs Burton in her own mind began toput two and two together. Could Ella's determination to leave her homehave anything to do with the handsome young cousin of her sisters'--Madelene's "messenger," as the girl had shrewdly surmised? Could it bethat he had been playing a double game, and making the poor childbelieve he cared for her when in reality engaged, or in some tacit wayplighted, to one of her sisters? For Mrs Burton had heard some gossipmore than once about Sir Philip Cheynes and the Coombesthorpe heiresses.If it were indeed so it would explain all. And yet--it was difficultto believe anything of the kind of the young man.
"He seemed so frank and chivalrous," thought Ella's aunt, "and he spokein such an entirely brotherly way of Madelene and Ermine. And they allseem to have _unshed_ to make Ella happy. The keeping from her the truestate of affairs about the property was kindly done. And I am sure SirPhilip Cheynes was genuinely concerned and anxious about Ella. Hereally seemed terribly sorry. I do wish she had never left me; and tothink that poor Marcus's money is all gone, and that there is nothingfor her! If I had known it, I would never have married again, never,kind as Mr Burton is! I do hope he and Ella will take to each other,and I think they will, his best comes out to any one in trouble."
It was very strange to Ella to find herself again--and after the lapseof comparatively speaking so short a time--under her aunt's roof, or tospeak more correctly, under Mr Burton's. She would have shrunk frommeeting the worthy gentleman a short time before, but late events hadchanged her greatly. She was quiet and gentle enough now, so much soindeed that her aunt and her husband agreed that they would be glad tosee a spark or two of her old spirit.
"How you and she used to fight," Mrs Burton exclaimed half regretfully.
"And now," her husband added, "she is as quiet and mild as a lamb. Idon't like it, Phillis--no, my dear, I don't like it. I take blame tomyself for having let her leave you, and if there is anything I can doto make up for it, I will do so. She has such pretty, thoughtful waystoo. Did you notice how she sees that my paper is always folded readyfor me? Her father must be hard to please if he was not satisfied withher."
It was true. Ella was much softened; her sore heart was grateful forkindness, and she was ashamed to recall her childish petulance andimpertinence to her aunt's husband. But kind as the Burtons were toher, there were often times when she regretted that she had not beenallowed to take her own way; for life was dull and dreary to her. Shemissed the companionship of her sisters, little as she had prized itwhile with them. Madelene's gentleness and refinement, Ermine's merryhumour and bright intellect had become more to her than she had in theleast realised. "If only, oh, if only they had loved me a little," sherepeated to herself.
Time passed--slowly enough to Ella; at the end of a week she felt as ifshe had been a month with her aunt; at the end of a fortnight she couldhave believed a year had gone by since she left Coombesthorpe; beforethe first month was over the whole of the past year began to seem to herlike a strangely mingled dream of pain and pleasure. She wrote toMadelene, gently and regretfully, but vaguely, and Madelene who had beenlonging for this letter, and building some hopes upon it, felt saddenedand discouraged. She handed it to Ermine, who read it carefully.
"Can you understand her?" asked Miss St Quentin.
Ermine knitted her brows.
"Not altogether," she said. "But, Maddie, I don't despair yet of thingscoming right somehow. I suppose," she added with a little smile, "whenone is happy one's self, it is easier to feel hopeful about otherpeople, even--" but here she hesitated; "even about you and Bernard."
"Oh, Ermine, do leave that subject alone," said Madelene.
"Next week I shall write to Ella," said Ermine, "papa will let me send amessage from him I feel sure."
Ella had been fully four weeks at Mrs Burton's when Ermine's lettercame. It was a mild day in March, one of the occasional early springdays which are not false to their name; Ella had persuaded her aunt tolet her go for a walk by herself, and with many injunctions as to thedirection she was to take, and the roads and paths she was not to wanderfrom, Mrs Burton had consented. In spite of herself the fresh, yetsoft air, the sensation of "promise" in the birds' chirpings, and thefew all but invisible green specks in the hedges, still more thediscovery of a lingering snowdrop or two, and of something not unlikebuds here and there among the primrose tufts, gave her a thrill of keenpleasure and invigoration.
"I wish I could go away--quite away, ever so far," she said to herself."I should like to make a fresh start and show them all I am not thespoilt, self-willed child they have thought me. I wish they would writeand tell me about Ermine's engagement, it must be openly announced bynow. I do wish they would tell me of
it, and then I think I would takecourage and write to dear godmother. I am afraid she is very angry withme, and no wonder. It must have seemed very unnatural to her that if Iwas in trouble at home I did not go to her, when she was so sympathisingabout my thinking Madelene didn't care for me. But Cheynesacre was thelast, the very last place I could have gone to."
She was crossing the wide breezy downs not far from Mrs Burton's houseon the outskirts of the town. Already the short afternoon was closingin, and the colours in the sky, softened by the wintry haze, announcedthe approaching sunset. Ella stood still to admire.
"How lovely it would be
The Third Miss St Quentin Page 44
