“Indeed, indeed, ma’am, I could not help this,” she whispered. “I hoped that my retreat would not have been known.”
“My dear child,” said Mrs Brandon kindly, “I do not blame you;” and she also rose and passed her arm round Ella’s waist. “But you would like to see him?”
“No, no, no!” cried Ella hastily. “I must not—I would rather not—it cannot be! I hoped to have been left here in peace, and free from persecution. I cannot see him; I must never see him again.”
“You wish, then, that Mr Charles Vining should be told that you decline to see him, and you beg he will not call again?” said Mrs Brandon softly, as she drew the fair girl nearer to her.
“I would not willingly hurt him,” said Ella hoarsely; “but I have told you all, and what else can I do? It can never be!”
“My child,” said Mrs Brandon tenderly, “I don’t know how it is, but you seem to have even in this short time made yourself occupy the place of a daughter. You are quite right, and this gay gallant must be checked and kept in his place. We cannot have hawks here to flutter our dovecot. I will go and see him—that is, if it is indeed your honest wish and desire that he should see you no more.”
“Yes, yes, it is indeed!” said Ella, with a sob that tore its way from her breast. “I can never see him more.”
Mrs Brandon made a movement to leave the room, but Ella clung to her.
“Do you repent of what you have said?” Mrs Brandon quietly asked.
“No, no!” said Ella half hysterically: “but—it is very kind of you to see him—but—but you will speak gently to him—you will not be harsh or cruel; for he is good and noble, and true-hearted and manly, and I believe he feels all this deeply.”