“Not alone, Ella?” said Madelene; “or at least if you do go alone, it will not be further than the grounds, I hope?”
“No,” said Ella, “I don’t mean to leave the grounds.”
She spoke more amiably—for this sort of authority or interference on her sister’s part did not irritate her, as it might have done some girls. She resented nothing which gave her the sensation of being considered a person of importance.
Twelve o’clock found her walking briskly down the drive which led to the principal entrance. The sharp clear air stimulated her nerves pleasantly; she felt high-spirited and almost happy. As Madelene had said truly, Coombesthorpe had a beauty of its own in every season.
“It is lovely,” thought Ella, as she looked around her, down across the gently sloping lawns to where the first murmur of water told of the stream pursuing its way, lonely now, without the merry companionship of its summer friends, the birds and gnats and butterflies; not to speak of the many quaint creatures who found their homes on its banks. “I wonder where they all go to?” she went on. “I suppose lots of them are asleep. I wish I knew more about country things. Ermine is so clever about them. I could learn all sorts of things from her if I was sure she—they—wanted to like me—”
Then her gaze passed on from the thicket concealing the brook, up again to the hills rising beyond. There was snow on the higher peaks; to be guessed at rather than seen, for a thin wintry haze made hills and clouds melt into each other. Ella shivered a little.
“Fancy living up on those hills,” she thought. “And they say there are cottages there where the people stay all the winter. The road to the Manor passes round the foot of them. I wonder how soon the groom will be back. Oh, I do hope he will bring the shoe.” She had forgotten about it for the moment; the recollection made her hasten her steps. She would ask the woman at the lodge if possibly the groom had already returned; if not, she would walk a little way down the road, which for some distance beyond these first gates remained a private one, in hopes of meeting him, for it would be easy to ask if he was bringing back a parcel or only a note.
There seemed no one stirring about the lodge when she got there, which was unusual, as the couple who lived in it were the proud possessors of two very pretty children, one or other or both of whom were generally to be seen peeping out of the doorway when any one came by.
“They seem all asleep,” thought Ella, who had long ago made great friends with the little family. “I hope they’re not ill.”
She made her way to the door as she spoke, and tapped gently, at the same time endeavouring to “lift the latch,” like Red Riding Hood of old, and let herself in. But the door resisted; it was evidently fastened inside.