just now at home," she thought; the wordslipping out half-unconsciously, "I do love the _real_ country, and yetwhen I was there with them I used to fancy I longed for streets andshops. I must have changed--yes, I am sure I have changed. But I amvery babyish still. I do feel this afternoon somehow as if I were goingto be happy--and yet I don't know why."
She hastened on.
"Aunty will be getting frightened," she thought. And as if in reply tothe thought, suddenly just emerging on to the open ground, she caughtsight of Mrs Burton's familiar figure. She was walking quickly, morequickly than usual, for aunt Phillis was stout and short and not verymuch given to exertion. Ella's conscience reproached her as sheperceived that the good lady was panting for breath and considerablyredder in the face than usual.
"Oh, aunty," she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. Have I stayed too long?"
For a moment or two Mrs Burton could not get her breath to reply,instead of speaking she held out a letter--it was addressed to Ella inErmine's writing.
"I couldn't wait till you came in. I was so eager to tell you. I feltso excited," panted the good lady at last. "I am so pleased and I amsure it will bring things round. Madelene has written to me, that ishow I know. I do think it very nice of her. And they have--your fatherand they have invited us to the wedding--Mr Burton and me. It is verygratifying," and Aunt Phillis beamed with complacency.
Ella had taken the letter in silence. But she had grown deadly pale.It had come then--the blow which she had been vaguely anticipating;which she had--how mistakenly she now saw--come to believe shethoroughly realised, had fallen.
"I knew something was going to happen," she said to herself; "I felt itcoming, and like a fool I fancied it was going to be something happy."
Her silence startled her aunt. She glanced at her hastily.
"My dear child," she exclaimed. "You look quite white. How thoughtlessof me to startle you so. Don't be frightened, Ella dearest. It ispleasant--good news, nothing to be distressed about."
Ella turned to her with what was intended to be a smile, but faileddisastrously.
"I--I was only startled," the poor child said at last, with a painfulsort of gasp.
Mrs Burton grew more and more alarmed. She glanced round; there was abench a few paces off.
"Let us sit down for a minute or two," she said. "It is cold. But youmust rest and recover yourself. Read your letter quietly. I won'tspeak to you till you feel all right again."
She had fortunately some eau de Cologne in her pocket, by the help ofwhich and a few minutes of perfect quiet, Ella mastered her agitation.Then she opened the letter.
She had read but a few lines when a change came over her face, first alook of bewilderment which increased as she read, then a curious,half-fearful questioning appeared in her eyes, to be followed by a flushof eager, yet tremulous joy.
"Aunty," she said breathlessly, "please look at it," and she held outthe letter, "am I making some strange mistake? I feel as if I weredreaming. Aunty--let me see your letter--do they tell you too who itis? Is it true--is it not Sir Philip that Ermine is going to marry?"
Mrs Burton glanced at her niece in astonishment, astonishment whichsoon changed to keen concern and sympathy as she understood Ella'sanxiety. She had plenty of good sense and ready wit however.
"Ella shall never know I have discovered her secret," was the thoughtthat flashed through her mind.
"Not Sir Philip," she repeated, "why of course not--I never thought ofhim for either of your sisters. He has been far too much like a brotherto them always."
Her tone was quite matter-of-fact. Ella gave a half shy look at her--itwas reassuring.
"Yes," she said, "they have seemed like that, I know, but still--onenever knows how things may turn out. Would you like to read my letter,aunt?--and may I see yours? Ermine's is very, very kind."
"Kinder than I deserve," she added to herself. How grievously she hadmisjudged her sisters, Madelene especially! How suspicious and mean nowseemed her fancies that Madelene was plotting to keep her out of SirPhilip's way in order that she might bring about a marriage between himand Ermine! She grew more and more ashamed as she read Madelene's ownletter to her aunt, for it was evident that Miss St Quentin's personalfeelings were those of the greatest satisfaction; there was not theslightest shadow of regret or disappointment that Ermine's choice shouldhave fallen where it had.
"She could not have written as she does if she had _ever_ thought of SirPhilip as I suspected," thought Ella, and she sat, lost in her ownreflections till her aunt's voice interrupted her.
"Have you ever seen him, Ella--your future brother-in-law--Mr GuildfordWest?" asked Mrs Burton.
"N-no--no," Ella replied, "at least I don't remember him. I think--yes,I recollect Madelene's saying once that he was at the Manor ball, but Idon't think I knew which he was."
Then her mind reverted to what Madelene had said at different timesabout Ermine's future, and she felt startled again to think how she hadmisinterpreted every allusion of the kind. Yet there was stillsomething she could not altogether understand--why had Madelene spokenof her as such a care and burden, adding to the existing"complications?"
"No," thought Ella, "I can't quite make it out. But I will nevermistrust Madelene again--it is the least I can do to trust her now afterhaving so shamefully misjudged her. Some day perhaps, if she and I areever together again--some day she will explain things perhaps and tillthen I can only ask her pardon in my heart."
She was very pale and there were tears in her eyes as she roused herselfto take part in her aunt's eager speculations and comments on theinteresting piece of news.
"It is so nice of Madelene to say they will hope to see _us_ at thewedding. I hope Mr Burton will go; he is rather shy, you see, Ella,having been so long a bachelor, and that makes him seem gruff tillpeople get to know him. But we _must_ get him to go--it will becharming to see you as bridesmaid. I _am_ so pleased about italtogether. And your father is pleased--it will do him good. Mr Westmust be very nice in every way," she went on, "not very rich, I suppose,but with Ermine's fortune that was not necessary."
Ella turned to her with a little surprise.
"Will Ermine have much while papa lives?" she asked. "I have neverheard much about it, but papa never speaks as if he were very rich."
Mrs Burton fidgeted a little.
"Oh--Ermine will have a very handsome income," she said evasively. "ButI dare say they will explain things themselves to you, now you arereally grown-up. I consider it a _very_ good marriage for Mr Westtoo."
And Ella's girlish mind gave no more thought to this part of the matter.Pounds, shillings, and pence were such very unimportant considerationsin her eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
"HAVING IT OUT."
The primroses were over--the paler hues of spring were giving place tothe richer and fuller beauty of early summer when Ella found herselfonce more at Coombesthorpe. It was the day before that of Ermine'smarriage when she arrived there with Mr and Mrs Burton. It had beenproposed that she should precede her aunt, but she shrank from doing so,and with real kindliness and tact, her sisters had refrained frompressing the matter.
"She must feel uncomfortable, poor little thing," said Ermine, "and itwill be easier for her if she only arrives when there are a good manyother people here."
"And naturally she feels that any sort of `explanations' would beill-timed just now when we have so much to think of," agreed Madelene."Nothing could be sweeter or gentler than her letters. Ermine, what_can_ have come over the child? I cannot yet understand her strangebitterness--for after all, what she overheard could have been simplyexplained. It will have to be explained sooner or later--about moneymatters I mean, and papa's exaggerated way of looking at it. Ermine--Ifear it was a mistake not to tell her the whole at first. Do youremember the day she came, just when we had been talking it all overwith Philip? Not a year ago yet."
"If nobody ever did wrong and nobody ever made mistakes, this worldw
ould not be this world any more, and I'm not at all sure but that itwould--with our present feelings--be a very dull place indeed," saidErmine, philosophically. "Keep up your spirits, Maddie. I should notbe half as cheerful as I am about leaving you if I had not great faithin some, at least, of my pet schemes ending well after all." Madelenesaid nothing for a minute or two.
"If--if you are still thinking about _Philip_ and Ella, you are onlypreparing fresh disappointment for yourself," she said. "He nevermentions her scarcely; he seems to have forgotten all about her."
"It did not look as if he were indifferent that