Her marvelling still almost kept even
pace with her joy. "I knew he would do what he pleased," she
said to herself; "I knew they could not help that; but I did
not dream he would ever make them like him, that I never
dreamed!"
On the ride, again, Ellen could not wish that her father were
not with them. She wished for nothing; it was all a maze of
pleasure, which there was nothing to mar but the sense that
she would, by-and-by, wake up and find it was a dream. And no
— not that either. It was a solid good and blessing, which,
though it must come to an end, she should never lose. For the
present there was hardly anything to be thought of but
enjoyment. She shrewdly guessed that Mr. Lindsay would have
enjoyed it too, but for herself; there was a little constraint
about him still, she could see. There was none about Mr. John;
in the delight of his words, and looks, and presence, Ellen
half the time forgot Mr. Lindsay entirely; she had enough of
them; she did not for one moment wish Mr. Lindsay had less.
At last the long, beautiful ride came to an end; and the rest
of the morning soon sped away, though, as Ellen had expected,
she was not permitted to spend any part of it alone with her
brother. Mr. Lindsay asked him to dinner, but this was
declined.
Not till long after he was gone did Ellen read Mr. Humphreys'
letter. One bit of it may be given: —
"Mr.
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