can you imagine Madelene would be vexed?--she will have beendelighted. And even supposing she had any such feeling, which isimpossible--really _impossible_, she knows her duty, the respect sheowes to her father, and I may say, to myself, far too well to resentanything we approve." Ella did not venture to say anything indisagreement, but in her heart she began to do her elder sister greaterinjustice than ever heretofore: she began to doubt her sincerity.
Colonel St Quentin was better, was the news Barnes met them with, andwhen the ladies' arrival had been announced to him, he sent word that hewould join Lady Cheynes in the library in five minutes.
"You need not stay with me, my dear Ella," said her godmother, "yourfather and I will entertain each other till luncheon is ready and youmay like to get your things unpacked."
Ella never resented anything from her godmother, and set off to her ownroom quite contentedly. A bright fire was burning in "the nursery" towelcome her, and faithful Hester, on the pretext of unpacking, waswaiting eagerly to hear the young lady's adventures.
"Oh, how jolly of you to have a fire, you dear old thing," was Ella'sgreeting. "Dear me, how strange it seems to be back again! Hester,open my box quick and let me have a peep at my frock before you put itaway. I want to feel sure it wasn't all a dream."
"Then you enjoyed yourself, Miss Ella? Indeed, I can see you did," saidthe old woman, as she carefully shook out the "_bovillonnes_" which hadso exercised Mrs Jones's mind. "Your dress isn't--not to say spoilt,at all. It'll look as good as new for the next time."
"Next time indeed!" sighed Ella, "and when will that be, I wonder?There was a gentleman there last night, do you know, Hester, that said Ireminded him of Cinderella? But Cinderella was luckier than I--she wentto _three_ balls, one after the other, and--"
But Hester interrupted her. She was peering anxiously into the trunk.
"Miss Ella," she said, "I can't see the fellow to this slipper nowhere.They're not your own, are they? At least I don't remember packing themup."
Ella's face grew grave.
"Oh dear," she exclaimed, "I had forgotten about it. I don't know whatto do," and the story was related to Hester.
"You must tell Miss Madelene--Miss St Quentin, about it, as soon as evershe comes home, and I daresay she'll send to inquire at the Manor.Dear--dear--it would be a pity if it were lost."
And the talking about it put other things out of the girl's head,otherwise she might not improbably have gone on to tell Hester moredetails about the ball and the unknown who had compared her to the oldfairy-tale heroine.
But the luncheon-bell interrupted her gossip with Hester. Ella foundher father already in the dining-room with Lady Cheynes.
"I'm so glad you're better, papa," she said, as she went up to kiss him,her sweet face bright and eager.
"Yes, my dear. I'm glad of it myself. And you--why, Aunt Anna, shelooks like a robin-redbreast--as brisk and fresh as can be! Not at allas if she had been dancing till I don't know what o'clock."
"Gaiety suits her apparently," said Lady Cheynes smiling. She wasdelighted to see the beginning of a better understanding between thefather and child,--"and she was a very good girl, Marcus; I must dojustice to her. She stopped dancing,--though she owned that her partnerwas most attractive--resolutely, when the time came for us to leave, andneither by word or look hinted at wishing to stay longer."
"That's right," said Ella's father approvingly. "And what news ofPhilip, aunt? Will he be turning up soon?"
"I expect to find him at Cheynesacre when I get back there thisafternoon," said the old lady.
Colonel St Quentin brightened up still more.
"Indeed! I am very glad to hear it. We must try to have a cheerfulChristmas--Ella's first among us too--" Ella smiled withgratification--"Madelene and Ermie will be delighted to hear Philip isback. You will be able to wait to see them this afternoon?"
Lady Cheynes hesitated.
"I fear not," she said, "the days are so very short now."
"And Phil arriving. Ah well--tell him to come over soon."
Ella left her father and his aunt to themselves again after luncheon,but apparently they had not much more to say to each other, for she wassoon sent for to bid Lady Cheynes good-bye.
"And be a sensible child, my dear," were her godmother's parting words,"don't begin fancying nonsense about Madelene. Let her and Ermine seeyour father by himself when they come in this afternoon and he will tellthem all about it."
"Thank you, dear godmother," said Ella.
She seemed almost to cling to the old lady as if reluctant to let hergo.
"Poor child," thought Lady Cheynes as she drove off, "yes--there is muchgood in her. She is very sweet and may certainly be led, even thoughnot driven. If only they don't all get at cross-purposes--I fear Maddieis right--it was a mistake to separate her from them all."
It was nearly dark when the Coombesthorpe carriage, which had been sentto the Manor to fetch the two sisters, drove up to their own door. Ellawho had spent the afternoon in restless Sittings about the house, unableto settle to anything and anticipating half nervously the meeting withMadelene and Ermine, was in the hall to receive them.
"Will you go to papa?" she said gently. "He is anxious to see you--heis a good deal better. I shall have tea ready for you in the library ina quarter of an hour, if that will do."
"Yes, thank you," said Madelene, and "That will do beautifully," Erminereplied more heartily.
Ella's heart sank. She had honestly meant and wished to do her best.
"Madelene is _not_ going to be nice to me," she reflected.
The truth was that Miss St Quentin was feeling both anxious andbewildered.
"Ermine," she said, pausing at the door of her father's room, "are yougoing to tell papa about Philip's having been there last night?"
"No, I don't suppose there will be any approach to the subject. If AuntAnna has chosen to keep up the little mystification till to-morrow, itwould be rather impertinent for us to interfere. And Madelene, you arenot to begin blaming yourself to papa for having, as you say you did,spoken crossly to Ella last night. It will just worry him and makemischief. Just let him see, as I shall, that we were both heartilypleased for her to have the pleasure."
Madelene sighed.
"I don't feel--" she began.
"Oh well, if you want to do penance, apologise to Ella. She looks verymeek and mild--I fancy she is in a mood of good resolutions, and for anysake don't let Phil find us all at loggerheads."
CHAPTER TWELVE.
SMUTS.
The interview with her father turned out satisfactorily for Madelene.Each was suffering from inward consciousness of having acted to someextent unreasonably, and each felt a kind of unexpressed relief at notbeing brought to task. Colonel St Quentin's manner and tone wereplainly deprecatory of blame.
"You must not think me weak and foolish for having given in to youraunt, when I had stood out so--well, I suppose I must say--obstinatelywith you and Ermine," he said with a slight smile.
"Ermine and I were only too delighted for Ella to have the pleasure ofit," Madelene replied.
"I knew that--I was assured of that," said her father, and then thesubject was allowed to drop.
Ella was looking very demure in her grey linsey-woolsey, waiting besidethe tea-table in the library, when the two others joined her. A smilewhich she could not altogether repress, crossed Ermine's face as thecontrast between her little sister's present "get-up" and that in whichshe had last seen her, crossed her mind.
"Oh, well, I'm not sorry to be home again," she said aloud. "What doyou think, Ella? Would you like to have yesterday night over again?"
Ella looked up with a half doubtful questioning in her sweet eyes. WasErmine chaffing her, or was this veiled sarcasm, or what? But beforeshe had time to form any judgment on the matter, to her surpriseMadelene interposed.
"Ella," she said--she was standing near the fireplace, and her tallfigure in its dark winter garb looked very impo
sing, though her face,had Ella seen it clearly, was gentle and almost touching in itsexpression--"Ella, my dear," she said, "I want to say to you now, atonce, that I am very sorry I so misjudged you last night, blaming youwhen you did not deserve it--when indeed you _could_ not have deservedit; for a moment's reflection might have shown me you could not havecome to the Manor unknown to or unapproved of by papa. But I was soastonished that for once, I suppose I lost my head. Will you forgetabout it, and believe that I am very happy you had the pleasure?"
"Of course,"