Miss
Fortune might object as she pleased; he always found an
answer; and at last Ellen, to her great joy, would be told,
"Well! go get your bonnet and be off with yourself." Once
under the shadow of the big trees, the dried leaves crackling
beneath her feet, and alone with her kind conductor — and Miss
Fortune and all in the world that was disagreeable was
forgotten — forgotten, no more to be remembered till the walk
should come to an end. And it would have surprised anybody to
hear the long conversations she and Mr. Van Brunt kept up —
he, the silentest man in Thirlwall! Their talk often ran upon
trees, among which Mr. Van Brunt was at home. Ellen wanted to
become acquainted with them, as well as with the little
flowers that grew at their feet; and he tried to teach her how
to know each separate kind by the bark and leaf and manner of
growth. The pine and hemlock and fir were easily learnt; the
white birch, too; beyond those, at first, she was perpetually
confounding one with another. Mr. Van Brunt had to go over and
over his instructions — never weary, always vastly amused.
Pleasant lessons these were! Ellen thought so, and Mr. Van
Brunt thought so too.
Then there were walks with Alice, pleasanter still, if that
could be. And even in the house, Ellen managed to keep a token
of spring-time. On her toilet-table, the three uncouth legs of
which were now hidden by a neat dimity cover, there always
stood a broken tumbler with a supply of flowers.
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