“And be a sensible child, my dear,” were her godmother’s parting words, “don’t begin fancying nonsense about Madelene. Let her and Ermine see your father by himself when they come in this afternoon and he will tell them all about it.”
“Thank you, dear godmother,” said Ella.
She seemed almost to cling to the old lady as if reluctant to let her go.
“Poor child,” thought Lady Cheynes as she drove off, “yes—there is much good in her. She is very sweet and may certainly be led, even though not driven. If only they don’t all get at cross-purposes—I fear Maddie is right—it was a mistake to separate her from them all.”
It was nearly dark when the Coombesthorpe carriage, which had been sent to the Manor to fetch the two sisters, drove up to their own door. Ella who had spent the afternoon in restless Sittings about the house, unable to settle to anything and anticipating half nervously the meeting with Madelene and Ermine, was in the hall to receive them.
“Will you go to papa?” she said gently. “He is anxious to see you—he is a good deal better. I shall have tea ready for you in the library in a quarter of an hour, if that will do.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Madelene, and “That will do beautifully,” Ermine replied more heartily.
Ella’s heart sank. She had honestly meant and wished to do her best.
“Madelene is not going to be nice to me,” she reflected.
The truth was that Miss St Quentin was feeling both anxious and bewildered.