"Well—well, no matter!" exclaimed the hag, lifting off the lid of her saucepan, and ogling the stew. "At all events," she continued, after a pause, "you require my services now—else why are you come?"
"Yes—I require your services," answered the young lady. "I want employment—can you tell me of any thing likely to suit me?"
"In what way?" demanded the hag, with an impudent leer.
Ellen remained silent—absorbed in thought. That question recalled to her mind the difficulties of her position, and convinced her how little scope there was for the exercise of choice in respect to employment.
The old woman surveyed her fair visitant with attention; the sardonic expression of her countenance changed into one of admiration, as she contemplated that lovely girl. Her head was so gracefully inclined the least thing over one shoulder as she sat wrapt up in her reflections;—there was a shade of such bewitching melancholy upon her classic countenance: the long, dark fringes that shadowed her deep blue eyes, gave so Murillo-like a softness to her cheek as she glanced downwards; her bust, since she had become a mother, had expanded into such fine proportions, yet without destroying the perfect symmetry of her shape;—and her entire air had something so languishing—something of an only partially-subdued voluptuousness—that the old hag regarded her with mingled sentiments of admiration, envy, and pleasure.
"In what way can I serve you?" said the harridan again, after a long time.
"Alas! I have scarcely made up my mind how to answer the question," replied Ellen, smiling in spite of her melancholy thoughts. "I am not actually in want; but my father and myself are dependent upon the bounty of one who is by no means able to support us in idleness. My father can do nothing; he is old—infirm, and broken down by affliction. It therefore remains for me to do something to earn at least a trifle."
"A young lady of your beauty cannot be at a loss for friends who will treat her nobly," said the old woman, affecting to busy herself with her stew, but in reality watching Ellen's countenance with a reptile-like gaze as she spoke.
"Ah! I know that I am not the ugliest person in existence," exclaimed the young lady, smiling once more; "but I am anxious," she added, her countenance suddently assuming a serious expression, "to live a quiet—an honourable—and a virtuous life. I know there is nothing to be gained by the needle. I dislike the menial and degrading situation of a copy or a model:—are you aware of no other occupation that will suit me?"
"Have you any money in your pocket?" demanded the hag, after a few moments' reflection.