Grandfather shook his head.
"What is your plan?" asked a placating Millie.
"I shall get work and save my money. I'm strong and well; it would be very strange if I couldn't get along. At any rate, I'm going to try."
Matthew rose. Beside him Ellen looked pale and worn and young. He was disturbed. It was not possible that she was serious! "You've been a great help to us—I don't deny that. It all proves that you could always be a good, earnest Christian girl if you would only be sensible."
He laid his hand on Ellen's shoulder. The house seconded Matthew and pleaded with her; her affection for him pleaded. She was conscious also of Amos near by, and suddenly certain instincts, hitherto unrecognized, took advantage of her excitement. All pointed to the easiest way, to acquiescence. It seemed for a moment that her father was a stranger who had wandered across the path laid down for her by many generations. Then suddenly she lifted her head and went swiftly from the room.
"I believe she'll be all right," said Grandfather in a trembling voice. "She has an inheritance to fight against her, but one also to fight for her."
Matthew looked out the window into the darkness and after a moment he wiped his eyes. Ellen's spirit, he believed, was broken, and there is something terrible in the breaking of a spirit even to those who have brought it about. He saw her in imagination lying upon her bed, crying pitifully. Millie looked down at her baby. It would be dreadful to have to give up her brooding hours! But Ellen would stay, of course, and she hoped that now she was cured of her foolishness. Amos stood trembling by the door. He wished to speak to them all, to reprove them, to attack them, to insult them, even Grandfather, but most of all Millie. But it would only make matters worse. He saw with relief that Grandfather was rising and he stepped out and waited for him on the doorstone.
Matthew was mistaken about Ellen. She was not crying; she was standing upright, listening at last like the prodigal in a far country to a call. She went quietly about the house, bringing from the attic two satchels and putting into them the few things which she owned. Each motion had the deliberation of an act long planned. When she had finished she undressed and lay down.
It was quite in character for Ellen next morning to wash the breakfast dishes. Afterwards she changed her dress and appeared in the kitchen, the smaller satchel in her hand.
"Good-bye, Millie."