"But will you tell me one thing, aunt Emmeline? Why, if the promise were mistaken, and poor mamma would have wished it recalled, did I always seem to see her so distinctly, and fancy she so desired me to save Edward from my uncle's displeasure?"
"Because you have a very strong imagination, my love, increased by dwelling on this subject; and in your last trial your mind was in such a fearful and unnatural state of excitement, that your imagination became actually diseased. It was not at all surprising; for much older and stronger, and wiser persons would have experienced the same, under the same pressure of grief, and terror, and remorse. But what can I do to cure this morbid imagination, Ellen?" she continued playfully; "sentence you, as soon as you get well, to a course of mathematics, six hours each day?"
"I am afraid my poor head will be more stupid at figures than ever," replied Ellen, trying to smile, too.
"Then I suppose I must think of something else. Will you follow Emmeline's example, and tell me every thing, however foolish or unfounded it may seem, that comes into this little head—whether it worries or pleases you? You have nothing, and you will have nothing ever again, I trust, to conceal from me, my dear Ellen; and if you will do this, you will give me more comfort individually, and more security for the furtherance of your happiness, as far as my love can promote it, than any other plan."
Her playfulness had given place to renewed earnestness, and Ellen, as if in the very thought of such perfect confidence dwelt security and peace, so long unknown to her, gave the required assurance so eagerly and gratefully, that Mrs. Hamilton was satisfied and happy.
CHAPTER XI.
THE LOSS OF THE SIREN.
From that day, Ellen's recovery, though a sad trial of patience both to the young invalid and her affectionate nurses, was surely progressive, without any of those painful relapses which had so tried Mr. Maitland's skill before. She no longer shrunk from the society of her relations, receiving Caroline's and Miss Harcourt's many kind attentions with surprise indeed, for she could not imagine what could so have altered their feelings toward her, but with that evident gratitude and pleasure, which encourages a continuance of kindness. Emmeline was always kind, but it was indeed happiness to feel she might talk with and share her amusements, as in former days; and that, instead of thinking she ought not to receive her aunt's affection, the only thing she asked in return was her full confidence. The inexpressible rest to poor Ellen which that conversation gave is not to be described. It was so blessed, so soothing, that it seemed too unnatural to last, and the secret dread that her uncle would not feel toward her and Edward as her aunt did was its only alloy. Edward, too, was cheerful, and almost happy when with her; and a long conversation with Mr. Howard, which that worthy man insisted upon having as soon as she was strong enough, to remove the false impressions which his severity had given, and which never ceased to grieve and reproach him, caused his almost daily visits to be anticipated by her with as much gladness as they had before brought dread.
"And now that anxiety for Ellen is at end, I must have you take more care of yourself, Mrs. Hamilton. Your husband's last injunctions, were, that I should never pass a week without calling once or twice at Oakwood to know how all was going on, and what would he say to me if he could see you now?"