She told us that she was an only child, and that for the last ten years she had been a resident in Canton, whither her father had proceeded to take possession of a lucrative appointment. After a residence of five years there, her mother died; and her father, who was passionately attached to his wife, seemed never to have recovered from the blow.
Five years more passed away, and the husband followed his fondly-loved companion, dying (so Ella asserted sobbingly) of no disease in particular, but of a gradual wasting away, the result, as she believed, of a slowly breaking heart.
She thus found herself left alone and almost friendless in a strange land, and, after taking counsel with such friends as her father had made, she had, with their assistance, disposed of everything, and had taken passage in the Copernicus to London, in the faint hope of being able to find some friends of her mother’s of whom she had heard, but had never seen, her mother having contracted what is termed a mésalliance—in other words, a love-match with one whom her friends chose to consider infinitely beneath her in social position.
The ship was bound home by way of Cape Horn, having to call at the Sandwich Islands and Buenos Ayres on her way; and all had gone well until eight days before, when, it appeared, the ship was struck by a sudden squall some time during the night, thrown on her beam-ends, and dismasted; and as Ella had remained, during the whole time, cowering and terrified in her berth, she supposed the crew had gone away in the boats, forgetting her in their hurry and panic.
As soon as the squall was over, the ship had gradually righted again; and when she went on deck next morning, she found everything in a state of wreck and confusion, and herself, and her pet kitten, and a few fowls in the coops, the only living things on board.
Her story ended, Bob and I expressed our sympathy for her friendless condition, and repeated our protestations of devotion, for both of which we were thanked anew, so sweetly that we could have gone on making promises for the rest of the day with the prospect of such a reward at the end of it.
I am not good at personal description, so I shall not attempt elaborately to describe Ella Brand.
Imagine a petite demoiselle of seventeen years of age, of almost fairy-like proportions, faultlessly formed, with most lovely features, and a delicate little exquisitely poised head, crowned with a luxuriance of rich chestnut hair, which, apparently defying all its owner’s efforts to control, flowed in a profusion of soft sheeny waves over her beautiful shoulders and down to her taper waist.
Her eyes were clear hazel, large and soft as those of a gazelle; her lips full and beautifully curved; and the expression of her sweet face confiding as that of a child; while her manner was a most fascinating combination of the innocent frankness of childhood with the more subtle and graceful refinement of a modest and educated woman.
Her temper, as we soon found, was perfect; and she was gifted with a genial flow of spirits, which not only made their owner light-hearted and happy, but conferred happiness upon all who had the good fortune to be thrown in her society.