Lindsay than a glance of her brother's eye. Ellen
made no objection to the imperativeness of her new guardians;
it seldom was called up so as to trouble her, and she was not
of late particularly fond of having her own way; but she
sometimes drew comparisons.
"I could not any sooner — I could not as soon — have disobeyed
John; and yet he never would have spoken to me as they do if I
had."
"Some pride perhaps?" she said, remembering Mr. Dundas's
words; "I should say a great deal, John isn't proud; and yet,
I don't know, he isn't proud as they are; I wish I knew what
kinds of pride are right and what wrong; he would tell me if
he was here."
"What are you in a 'brown study' about, Ellen?" said Mr.
Lindsay?
"I was thinking, Sir, about different kinds of pride; I wish I
knew the right from the wrong — or is there any good kind?"
"All good, Ellen, all good," said Mr. Lindsay, "provided you
do not have too much of it."
"Would you like me to be proud, Sir?"
"Yes," said he, laughing and pinching her cheek, "as proud as
you like, if you only don't let me see any of it."
Not very satisfactory; but that was the way with the few
questions of any magnitude Ellen ventured to ask; she was
kissed and laughed at, called metaphysical or philosophical,
and dismissed with no light on the subject. She sighed for her
brother. The hours with M. Muller were the best substitute she
had; they were dearly prized by her, and, to say truth, by
him.
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