She was already there, eagerly looking out for Madelene, whom she at once drew into a corner.
“Madelene,” she began, but Miss St Quentin for once was so excited that she interrupted her.
“Ermine,” she said, “it is she—Ella. I have seen her and spoken to her. I never in all my life was so—”
“Wait, Madelene—do let me speak. Of course it is Ella, but it is all right. She came with Aunt Anna. There is nothing to be vexed about. Aunt Anna took it all upon herself. She persuaded papa to let the poor child come. Really, Maddie,” seeing that no change of expression lighted up her elder sister’s face, “I don’t understand you some times. I thought you would have been quite delighted. You did want her to come.”
But Miss St Quentin’s equanimity had been too thoroughly disturbed for her to recover it quickly. She was, at the bottom of her heart, more seriously vexed with herself than with any one else, vexed with her own hasty and, as she now saw, absurd idea that Ella would have ventured on such an escapade as to follow them by herself. And to one of Madelene’s temperament, mortification is peculiarly bitter. For the moment she yielded to her irritation and allowed herself the questionable relief of venting it on others.
“Of course I wanted her to come if the thing had been properly arranged. Papa should have consented when we asked him, or else, it seems to me, kept to his decision. Aunt Anna went to Coombesthorpe, I suppose, and found Ella weeping like a poor little martyr at having been left alone. And her entreaties and Ella’s tears prevailed where my downrightness failed, it seems,” she said cynically.
Ermine looked at her in surprise.
“Well, and what if they did?” she said. “You are not going to begin feeling jealous of Aunt Anna’s influence with papa—that would be too absurd. And as for Ella’s tears—wait at least till we know that she shed any. But, Maddie—I’ve seen Aunt Anna, and it is so absurd. Philip and Ella are dancing together—have been, at least, and neither knows who the other is! Isn’t it fun? Aunt Anna has quite entered into the spirit of it, and she says we are to try to keep it up, and not let either of them speak to her or to us when the other is by. Ella is engaged for every dance—people are all smitten by her, but aunt is going soon, so it won’t be difficult.”
“I don’t see any point in it,” said Madelene, coldly.
“Don’t you! Oh I think it’s Capital—the very thing we thought of at the beginning,” and here, though there was no one to catch her words, Ermine dropped her voice,—“if—if they were to take a fancy to each other, Maddie, it would be such a good thing, such a comfort to papa, too.”