It
said as plainly as any dressing-bell that she had better get
up. So up she jumped, and set about the business of dressing
with great alacrity. Where was the distress of last night?
Gone — with the darkness. She had slept well; the bracing
atmosphere had restored strength and spirits; and the bright
morning light made it impossible to be dull or downhearted, in
spite of the new cause she thought she had found. She went on
quick with the business of the toilet. But when it came to the
washing, she suddenly discovered that there were no
conveniences for it in her room — no sign of pitcher or basin,
or stand to hold them. Ellen was slightly dismayed; but
presently recollected her arrival had not been looked for so
soon, and probably the preparations for it had not been
completed. So she finished dressing, and then set out to find
her way to the kitchen. On opening the door, there was a
little landing-place from which the stairs descended just in
front of her and at the left hand another door, which she
supposed must lead to her aunt's room. At the foot of the
stairs Ellen found herself in a large square room or hall, for
one of its doors on the east opened to the outer air, and was
in fact the front door of the house. Another Ellen tried on
the south side; it would not open. A third, under the stairs,
admitted her to the kitchen.
The noise of hissing and sputtering now became quite violent,
and the smell of the cooking, to Ellen's fancy, rather too
strong to be pleasant.
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