"And so betray my being in a passion the other day, and get me a reproof for that, and for my carelessness into the bargain! Nonsense, Ellen; I will get it, and, you must help me, for I have not a moment to lose."
"No, Edward! indeed, indeed, I can not touch it," she replied imploringly, and shrinking back.
"Say, rather, you wish to get me into disgrace, and perhaps prevented from going out this evening, and to-morrow, and Friday too!" exclaimed Edward, irritated beyond all forbearance; "and the other day you were so very sorry I was going from home so soon—much you must care about me, that you can not do such a trifling thing as this to oblige me! I hate deceit."
Ellen made no reply, though the tears started to her eyes; but as usual her firmness deserted her. The heavy stand was carefully moved a little forward, without injuring any of the plants; the book was obtained, and at that moment the voice of Percy was heard exclaiming—
"Edward! Edward! what are you about? papa has been expecting you the last half-hour; he says if you do not come directly, you will not have time to do all you wish—what can you be about?"
Edward did not wait to hear much more than his name, but darted off, leaving his sister to push back the stand. Ellen felt almost sure she could not do it by herself; but how was she to act? To ask assistance would not only be confessing her own disobedience, but inculpating her brother, and really, perhaps, deprive him of the enjoyments he anticipated, and so confirm his unkind words. She tried to replace it, and thought she had quite succeeded; but as she moved it, one of the myrtles fell to the ground, and its beautiful blossom hung on the stalk, preserved from being quite broken off only by three or four delicate fibers. It was Caroline's favorite plant; one she so cherished and tended, that Percy called it her petted child; and poor Ellen stood paralyzed; she raised the pot mechanically, and rested the broken head of the flower against the still uninjured sprig, and it looked so well and natural, that the thought for a moment darted across her mind that after all it might not be discovered. Then came all her aunt's lessons of the many ways of acting an untruth without words, and, therefore, even if it should not be discovered, it was no comfort; but could she, dared she, voluntarily confess what must appear a willful disobedience? If her aunt had been at home, she might in that first moment have gained the necessary courage; but she was not expected back for two or three hours, and Ellen sat with her face buried in her hands, only conscious of misery, till her cousin's joyous voice called out from the hall—
"Come along, Nelly, I have kept you long enough; Tiny would never have left me quiet so long; but there is no tiring your patience. However, I will make up for it now."
And glad to escape from her own thoughts, she hastily collected the various seeds, and ran after him. And Percy was so active, so obliging, so amusing in his queer ways of working and talking, that she almost forgot the impending trial, till she met her aunt and cousins at luncheon. Edward had been so intent, so happy at his business with his uncle, that he had never cast a thought as to how the stand got back; and after lunch he had to go for a row on the river, and after dinner to attend a lecture on astronomy, which, that night and the one following, was to be given in the town-hall in T—. His uncle and Percy and Herbert were to accompany him, and so, that he should give a thought to any thing disagreeable, was not likely.
The day wore on; Ellen's little courage had all gone, and she almost unconsciously hoped that nothing would be discovered. Mr. Hamilton and the lads departed at six, and Mrs. Hamilton proposed adjourning to her daughters' room, to finish an entertaining book that they were reading aloud. She had noticed, with her usual penetration, that all day Ellen evidently shrunk from her eye, and felt quite sure something was wrong again; but she asked no questions, fearing again to tempt equivocation. Caroline's passionate exclamation that somebody had broken her beautiful flower, drew the attention of all to the stand, and one glance sufficed to tell Mrs. Hamilton that it had been moved. Her anxious suspicions at once connected this with Ellen's shrinking manner, and she turned to ask her if she knew any thing about it. But Ellen had disappeared; and she rang the bell, and inquired of the only domestics whose department ever led them into the room, if they could explain the accident. But neither of them could; all uniting in declaring, that in the morning the myrtle was quite perfect.
"Ellen was at home, mamma; she must know something about it. Percy said they did not begin gardening till more than an hour after we were gone," exclaimed Caroline, whose temper was sorely tried by this downfall of all her cares. "I dare say she did it herself—spiteful thing!—and has gone to hide herself rather than confess it—it is just like her!"