"
"Stop a bit," said the old man, taking up his saddle-bags;
"Miss Fortune's niece, eh? Well, I believe as I've got
somethin' for her — somethin' here. Aunt well, eh?"
"Yes, Sir."
"That's more than you be, ain't it?" said he, glancing
sideways at Ellen's face. "How do you know but I've got a
letter for you here, eh?"
The colour rushed to that face, and she clasped her hands.
"No, dear, no," said he; "I han't got any for you — it's for
the old lady; there, run in with it, dear."
But Ellen knew before she touched it that it was a foreign
letter, and dashed into the house with it. Miss Fortune coolly
sent her back to pay the postage.
When she came in again, her aunt was still reading the letter.
But her look, Ellen _felt_, was unpromising. She did not venture
to speak — expectation was chilled. She stood till Miss
Fortune began to fold up the paper.
"Is there nothing for me?" she said then, timidly.
"No."
"Oh! why don't she write to me?" cried Ellen, bursting into
tears.
Miss Fortune stalked about the room, without any particular
purpose as far as could be seen.
"It is very strange," said Ellen, sorrowfully; "I am afraid
she is worse. Does papa say she is worse?"
"No."
"Oh! if she had only sent me a message! I should think she
might — oh! I wish she had! — three words! — does papa say why
she don't write?"
"No."
"It is very strange!" repeated poor Ellen.
Pages:
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576