Mrs Brandon smiled incredulously, but there was pity in her words as she bent over Ella, and tried to calm her.
“Is it really then like that, my poor, weak, gentle little dove?” she whispered. “Has he then made so firm a footing in this poor soft yielding heart? But you are quite right; you must not see him, and the soreness will soon wear off. You do not know the ways of the world, and of these gay, insidious, smooth-tongued gallants, born with the idea that every pretty face beneath them in station, forsooth, is to minister to their pleasure. I see—I see; and I don’t blame you for believing all he said.”
“But I think you mistake his character,” said Ella pleadingly.
“Perhaps so,” said Mrs Brandon, smiling; “but will you leave your welfare in my hands, Ella?”
It was the first time Mrs Brandon had called her by her Christian name, and the young girl looked up with, a sad sweet smile.
“I am very young, very helpless, and quite alone in the world,” she said softly; “and I have met here with kindness such as I have not before known since they died. I was so happy, so hopeful, so trustful that happier days were coming; and, indeed. I wish to be grateful.”
Mrs Brandon kissed her again, and made a movement once more to leave; but Ella made a clutch at her hand.
“Shall I stay?” said Mrs Brandon softly. “Will you see him yourself?”
Ella was silent for a moment, for there was a great, a wild struggle in her breast; but she conquered, and drawing herself up, she stood, pale and cast-down of eye, with one hand resting on a chair-back.
“Do I understand you, Miss Bedford?” said Mrs Brandon.