A deathlike silence followed, and Dan was almost frightened to break it, but he was constrained by his fears to speak.
"There is a hidden meaning in your words, Susan," he said in hushed tones, "that I cannot fathom. Give me some clew, if you have any love for me."
"I can give you none," she answered hurriedly, "until I am released from my pledge. Do not ask me any thing else--I don't think I am conscious of what I am saying. I will go up to Basil--to Mr. Kindred--and beg of him to see you. What is that?"
It was merely a knock at the street-door; but in Susan's nervous condition the sound was sufficient to cause her to start in alarm from Dan's side.
"Only a knock at the door, Susey. You have overtasked yourself, my dear, with nursing."
Susan hastened to the street-door, and Dan heard a voice ask if Mr. Basil Kindred lived there. "Yes," answered Susan. "Here is a letter for him; is it right?" "Quite right." And taking the letter from the messenger, Susan went up stairs to Basil Kindred's room. She had left the street-door open, and before another minute had passed, sunshine entered the house--sunshine, in the person of Ellen, who, radiant with joy, ran into the house and into the parlor, and clasping Dan round the neck, called him by the dearest of names, and kissed him again and again. What a bright flower she was! What a lovely flower she was! What nameless beauty had passed into her face, that caused Dan to thrill with pride that she was his sister, and caused him to wonder at the same time what change it was that had come over her and added to her loveliness? The sombre aspect of the room was gone; the chill, the fear, the dread of Susan's meaning was gone; the terror that had no reason in it, as far as he could see, was gone. For sunshine had entered the house.
"O my dear, dear Dan!" she cried, shedding tears in the fulness of her joy. "O my darling, darling brother! I am so happy to be with you again!"
She kissed his face a dozen times again, and hid hers on his neck, and kissed that too, until from Dan's heart, infected by her happiness, every particle of fear planted there by Susan's manner had fled. Truly, she was sunshine--the best, the dearest, the warmest.
"My dear, dear Ellen!" said Dan, returning her affectionate embrace, "how happy I am that you are back! I have been thinking how lonely the house is without you. But"--holding her face between his hands and looking at it, bright and blushing and beautiful--"you have grown positively lovely. What have you been doing with yourself these last four days?"
What had she been doing with herself? She laughed softly at the question, then ran and shut the door, and came back and sat on the floor at his feet, tucking up her dress to save it from the dust. She was in such a flutter even then--taking Dan's hand and fondling it--that he waited to speak until she was more composed. Presently she grew quieter, and resting her head on his knees, said,--