It was not until night, after Avice, wearied with sorrow and excitement, had gone to bed, that Sara, calling Mrs. Nelson to her, said:
‘Well, Ellen, what do you think of my new arrangement? Are you pleased to have Miss Wellfield here?’
‘Yes, indeed, ma’am. I never saw a sweeter young lady, nor one that was more of a real lady. She’s one that it will be a pleasure to serve.’
‘That is well, and I quite agree with you. And—Mr. Wellfield?’
There was a pause before Ellen said: ‘It is much more difficult to judge of a gentleman, on the spot as it were; and for a woman, too. And then he is so much older.’
‘I know. But you must have formed some opinion of him, Ellen. We never see anyone strange without some impression being made on our minds.’
‘He is a noble-looking gentleman,’ said Ellen, slowly. ‘What piercing dark eyes he has; and such a presence, and such a voice—such an air, Miss Sara, if I might say so. One does not often see such gentlemen, and——’
‘Well, Ellen?’ said her mistress, resting her chin upon her hand, and looking fixedly at her, while her heart throbbed. Was he not all that, and more?
‘I was thinking—Miss Sara, you must not think me impertinent. You are like my child, you know.’
‘I know it. Go on.’