But
the trifles she thought he did not see were noted and
registered, and repaid with all the affection he had to give.
As for Mr. John, it never came into Ellen's head to think
whether she was a comfort to him; he was a comfort to _her;_ she
looked at it in quite another point of view. He had gone to
his old sleeping-room upstairs, which Margery had settled with
herself he would make his study; and for that he had taken the
sitting-room. This was Ellen's study too, so she was
constantly with him; and of the quietest she thought her
movements would have to be.
"What are you stepping so softly for?" said he, one day,
catching her hand as she was passing near him.
"You were busy — I thought you were busy," said Ellen.
"And what then?"
"I was afraid of disturbing you."
"You never disturb me," said he; — "you need not fear it. Step
as you please, and do not shut the doors carefully. I see you
and hear you; but without any disturbance."
Ellen found it was so. But she was an exception to the general
rule; other people disturbed him, as she had one or two
occasions of knowing.
Of one thing she was perfectly sure, whatever he might be
doing — that he saw and heard her; and equally sure, that if
anything were not right, she should sooner or later hear of
it. But this was a censorship Ellen rather loved than feared.
In the first place, she was never misunderstood; in the
second, however ironical and severe he might be to others —
and Ellen knew he could be both when there was occasion — he
never was either to her.
Pages:
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777