The silence had lasted a long time. Ellen
thought so; and standing near, she by-and-by put her hand
gently into one of his, which was thoughtfully passing through
the locks of his hair. Her hand was clasped immediately, and,
quitting his abstracted look, he asked what she had been doing
that day. Ellen's thoughts went back to toes of stockings and
a long rent in her dress; she merely answered, smiling, that
she had been busy.
"Too busy, I'm afraid. Come round here, and sit down. What
have you been busy about?"
Ellen never thought of trying to evade a question of his. She
coloured and hesitated. He did not press it any further.
"Mr. John," said Ellen, when the silence seemed to have set in
again — "there is something I have been wanting to ask you
this great while —"
"Why _hasn't_ it been asked this great while?"
"I didn't quite like to; I didn't know what you would say to
it."
"I am sorry I am at all terrible to you, Ellie."
"Why, you are not!" said Ellen, laughing — "how you talk! but
I don't much like to ask people things."
"I don't know about that," said he, smiling; "my memory rather
seems to say that you ask things pretty often."
"Ah, yes — those things; but I mean, I don't; like to ask
things when I am not quite sure how people will like it."
"You are right, certainly, to hesitate when you are doubtful
in such a matter; but it is best not to be doubtful when I am
concerned.
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