Ellen looked with surprise upon her cousin Charles, he was so much younger and more delicate than she had expected to see him. Mr. Wallace had said that the eldest of Mrs. Herbert's sons was thirteen years old, and Ellen had forgotten to ask the age of the other, but she had supposed him to be nearly if not quite twelve. He had said too that they were manly, and Ellen had concluded that they must be very large for their age, and very strong and robust. But Charles, though really ten years old, looked scarcely eight, he was so small, fair, and delicate, having always had very feeble health. Yet he was manly in his feelings, and so ambitious to equal his brother George's exploits, that he would do many things that some older and stronger-looking boys would not have attempted.
Ellen had just recovered her surprise, and decided that she liked Charles better as he was, with his light brown curls, his fair childish face, and bright laughing blue eyes, than she would have done if he had been a great, blustering boy, when the carriage stopped at the door of the house, where already stood George, flushed and panting with his race, and Mrs. Herbert. Ellen was never very slow in determining the feelings with which she would regard any one, and she often afterwards said, that she loved her Aunt Herbert as soon as she looked upon her. Few faces were so well calculated to produce such an impression as was Mrs. Herbert's. She was in deep mourning, and wore one of those close plain caps commonly called widow's caps, under which her brown hair, being parted in the middle of the forehead, was put smoothly back behind the ears. The upper part of her face was serious in its expression, but the mouth, if it did not actually smile always, looked so gentle and pleasant, that you thought it was going to smile. When Ellen first saw her, however, she was actually smiling, though tears were in her eyes, as again and again she pressed her niece to her heart, and kissing her tenderly, thanked her for coming to her, and called her her daughter Ellen.
"Cousin Ellen," said George, who looked just as Ellen had expected, tall, and stout, and sun-burned, "Cousin Ellen, we are very glad to see you."
"Not cousin Ellen—sister Ellen, my son; you are all my children now," said Mrs. Herbert, as again she folded Ellen in her arms.
"You must always live with us then," said Charles; "we shall not let you go away again."
Ellen, half bewildered among so many new claimants of her affection, had scarce spoken a word in reply to their greetings. She now looked around for Mr. Wallace. He saw the look, and understood it.
"Stay, stay, Charles, it takes two, you know, to make a bargain, and I have already promised that if Ellen wish it she shall go back in six months to her sister Mary—from whom, I assure you, it was no easy matter to get her away. So if you would keep her, you must make her love you so much in six months that she will not choose to leave you."
"So we will," said Charles, "so we will; and we'll bring sister Mary here too, mamma—won't we?"
"I hope so, my son; for Mary, too, I consider as my daughter, and would gladly have had her come now, if Mr. Villars had consented."
Ellen looked gratefully at her aunt, and began to doubt whether she ever should wish to leave her.