you do, Miss Ella," she said, "you'll get such a scolding as you'venever had in your life. And I'll be sent away--you'll see--and it'll beall your fault." Ella stopped short.
"Then why did you say it to me?" she asked, for she was a clever andquick-witted child.
"Oh, well--I shouldn't have said it. When you're older you'llunderstand better, darling. You see Harvey loves you so--she'd like youto be the eldest and have everything like a little princess. The_third's_ never the same--and Harvey doesn't like to think of her MissElla coming in for the old clothes and the leavings, and the worst of itall, so to say."
Ella had calmed down now, but she sat listening intently with astartled, uneasy look, painful to see on her pretty little face.
"But mamma won't let me have the shabby old clothes, _mamma_ loves metoo, Harvey," she persisted.
"Yes, yes--but poor mamma's very ill. But never mind, darling. WhileHarvey's here no one shall put upon you, and then there's your AuntiePhillis. _She_ loves my Miss Ella, that she does."
"Auntie's not here," said the child.
"No, but may be she'll come some day soon," said Harvey mysteriously,"only don't you say I said so. You don't want to get poor Harveyscolded again, do you, darling?"
"No," said Ella, but that was all, and when Harvey kissed her, thoughshe submitted quietly, she did not in any way return the caress.
Then she got down from her nurse's knee and collected her picture bookstogether, and put them away.
"Sha'n't I read anything to you? There's lots of other pretty stories,"Harvey asked.
"No," said Ella again, "I don't like no stories."
And once or twice during that day, even Harvey was startled, and alittle conscience-stricken at the expression on the child's face.
That same morning in a pretty sitting-room on the ground floor of thehouse, Madelene St Quentin and her sister Ermine were reading, or ratherpreparing some lessons together, when the door opened and an elderlylady in walking dress came in. Madelene started to her feet.
"Oh, Aunt Anna," she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come. I havefelt so fidgety all the morning, I couldn't settle to anything. It isso good of you to have come over again so early."
"I promised you I would, my dear," the new-comer replied. "I knew youwould be anxious to see me after your father being with us last night."
"You had a long talk with mamma first, and then you and papa had time toconsider it all?" said Madelene, "oh, I do hope--"
Lady Cheynes interrupted her.
"I will tell you all about it," she said, "but first tell me--how ispoor Ellen this morning? Had she a good night?"
Madelene shook her head.
"Not very, I'm afraid. It is so provoking--with all our care to saveher anxiety--last night when Ella was taken to say good-night to her,mamma found out in an instant that the child had a cold, and she hasbeen worrying about it ever since. I spoke as severely as I could toHarvey this morning. Of course it is all her fault."
Lady Cheynes in her turn shook her head.
"Of course it is her fault. But I am afraid it is no use for you to sayanything, my dear Maddie. It is a vicious circle. Ellen's faith inHarvey must not be destroyed, for it could only be done at a terriblerisk to your poor mother--and yet the more Harvey is left to herself themore and more she presumes upon it."
"I am not quite sure of that, Aunt Anna," said Madelene. "There must begood in Harvey, I hope--Ella is very fond of her."
Lady Cheynes tapped the umbrella she held in her hand, impatiently onthe floor. She was a small, handsome old lady, scarcely indeed old inpoint of years, but looking so, thanks to her white hair and the styleof dress she affected. She was never seen except in black, but black ofthe richest, though as she had not changed the fashion of her garmentssince her widowhood some thirty years ago, she had something quaint andold-world-like about her, decidedly pleasing however when combined withfreshness of material and exquisite neatness of finish. She had brightdark eyes, and delicate features. A very attractive old lady, butsomewhat awe-inspiring nevertheless.
"Rubbish, Maddie," she said sharply. "I don't mean," she hastened toadd, "that there is no good in the woman. If so, she would be a fiend.But as for the child being fond of her--that says nothing; people talk agood deal of nonsense about children's innate discernment. There isnothing so easy as to humbug a child--up to a certain point, that's tosay. Harvey can easily wheedle Ella into fancying herself fond of her,when it suits the woman's purpose. But at bottom I doubt if the childdoes care for her."
"Ella has a generous nature," said Madelene.
"Yes," Ermine agreed, speaking for the first time; "she always flies upin defence of any one she thinks ill-used."
Lady Cheynes glanced across the room at the last speaker.
"I did not notice you were there, Ermie," she said abruptly, "Philip iskicking his heels somewhere about. Suppose you go out and look for him?The two of you can entertain each other for half an hour or so while Italk to Madelene. It's no secrets--you needn't feel hurt. But I neverhave been and never shall be able to talk comfortably _a trois_."
Ermine got up from her place at the table and moved towards the door,turning a laughing face to Lady Cheynes as she did so.
"My feelings offended, auntie!" she said. "That would be something new,wouldn't it? Now do make a nice and gratifying little speech to me foronce."
Lady Cheynes smiled at Ermine as she left the room.
"I wish Ella were as good tempered as Ermie," said she, with a sigh."The child is very spoilt; that is the worst of it. And that brings meto what you are so anxious about, my dear."
"Yes?" said Madelene eagerly, her face flushing, and her large soft eyeslighting up.
But her aunt hesitated. She knew the extreme disappointment her nextwords must convey, and though her manner was abrupt, her heart wastender and sympathising.
"It is no use, Maddie. I said everything I could think of yesterday topoor Ellen. And your father, as we know, agrees with us. But of coursehe _cannot_ but give in now to that poor child of a wife of his. Itwould be brutal not to do so."
Madelene did not speak, but her eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, auntie," she said at last.
"You must be _truly_ unselfish, my dear, and not take it to heart toomuch."
"I had thought it would have been a comfort to poor mamma, for she hasbeen very good to Ermine and me. I think--I do think, considering shehas had us herself since we were quite little, that she might trust us,"said Madelene in a tremulous voice.
"She does--thoroughly," said Lady Cheynes, "don't make it more painfulfor yourself by any doubts of that kind, my dear child. And there isreason in what she says, too. Ellen is not a foolish woman."
"No," said Madelene, "I did not mean--"
"You are very young, you know, my dear, though older than your years.And even as it is, things will not be easy for you. That is what poorEllen feels. There is your father--it is very hard upon him, still ayoung man, to be a second time left a widower. And he will never marryagain--not a third time."
Madelene started. Her aunt patted her hand gently.
"Don't be shocked at my alluding to such a possibility," she said. "Iknow your father and Ellen would like you to understand all. So muchhangs on you, Maddie. It is to you Ellen confides your father, and thatis one of her great reasons for wishing the child to be away. It wouldbe too much upon you. I see that myself. You would have to get afirst-rate nursery-governess, or some one of that kind, or, worst ofall, you might be bound to keep Harvey."
"But Harvey will stay with her as it is--stay and do her best to poisonour little sister against us," said Madelene. "For you see, aunt, the--the position will be rather an awkward one afterwards, when we are allgrown-up, I mean. And Ella must come back to her own home, some time."
"If she lives," said Lady Cheynes, "but that is another point. Ellenmay be fanciful--I hardly agree with her myself; her own illness seemsto me accidental. He
r family is strong, but, rightly or wrongly, shethinks Ella very delicate. And Mrs Robertson lives in a mild climateand would take the child abroad if necessary. In that way there issomething to be said in favour of the plan."
"Yes," said Madelene, but she still sighed. "Aunt Anna," she added in amoment or two, "I will try and bear the disappointment well, and be ascheerful as I can with poor mamma, for--for the little while thatremains."
"Yes, dear, I am sure you will. Now, perhaps, we had better call
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